Nightmares of You
by Veniae
Summary: [Previously called Dreams Come True] In their sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy are unexpectedly tied together by a series of strange events; the same recurring dreams haunt both of them. Will they work together in order to solve the mystery, or will the dissensions between them prove too big to be overcome? DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.
1. Rude Awakening

_It is said that Dream Binding is one of the most powerful – and difficult – spells. As its name suggests, it is used to connect the minds of two (or more) people on a subconscious level. In this manner, while they are asleep, the dreams of one of them, figuratively labelled as the _host,_ are transmitted to the other(s), that is, the _guest(s).

_People believe that this can deeply affect the relationship between the people connected. That is why the Dream Binding spell must only be cast with the consent of both parties._

_As a rule, the spell only establishes the connection between the minds and does not affect the dream itself. However, it is possible to use it together with a Legilimency spell in order to manipulate the shared dream, although this is challenging even for the most proficient wizards and witches._

_Due to its nature, a skilled Occlumens can theoretically protect herself from the spell. Yet, it must be noted that since it affects the subconscious, it cannot be easily detected._

Excerpt from The _Magic of Dreams: Advanced Spells and Curses_

x-x-x

It was an ordinary Monday morning.

Hermione Granger, a Sixth Year student at Hogwards, the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, woke up with a smile on her face. After the good night's sleep, the world seemed unusually bright and beautiful. What's more, she'd had such a great dream that made her feel warm on the inside. It was...

_Dammit_. She frowned. She couldn't remember a thing, it felt as if her head was filled with cotton candy. She sighed, but contented herself with the happy feeling.

_Let's hope the day will be as nice as my dreams_, she thought and the smile bloomed on her face again. She disentangled her body from the bedsheets and hopped off her tall bed.

The other Gryffindor girls whom she shared a bedroom with were still sleeping. Hermione's eyes landed on Parvati Patil, whose face was the only part of her body not covered by the linen.

The serene expression on the girl's face gave an idea to Hermione. A sly smile spread on her face and she grabbed her pillow.

Parvati squealed as the pillow hit her square in the face. She sat up with eyes wide open, scrambling for her wand. Only then did she hear the laughter auburn-haired girl before herself. She pouted, "Hermione, what…"

"G'morning, Parvati," Hermione grinned, "Did you sleep well?"

Not waiting for an answer, she jogged out of the bedroom and towards the bathroom, leaving a group of rather confused (and rather sleepy) girls wonder at her playfulness.

It was unlike her to be so light-hearted.

x-x-x

Sometime later, a fully awake Hermione searched for her hairbrush. She couldn't find it on her bedside table; it was neither in her bag nor in the closet.

"What the…" Desperate, Hermione looked under her bed. And there it was. Hermione shook her head, amused, then proceeded to comb her hair. It was so tangled that Hermione couldn't imagine how violently she must have been tossing and turning in her sleep. Once more reminded of her dream, she smiled softly.

The girl checked herself in the mirror to see if everything was in order (after a nasty occurence in kindergarten, which involved her wearing slippers instead of shoes and the other kids laughing at her, she was all but paranoid about not being properly dressed). Not only did her reflection not shown any obvious misses, but it also filled her with an odd sense of delight.

She never used to regard herself as beautiful or care much about appearances, but in the last years this had slowly changed. She had started to take care of herself and her efforts had paid off. Even her bushy hair looked tamer now, sleeker – she'd spent a month in a small village in Italy, which was not only picturesque but famous with its homemade cosmetics.

Someone behind Hermione cleared her throat. "'Mione, if you're done checking yourself out, I'd like to use the mirror too," Lavender Brown was smiling teasingly.

"I'm not-,"

The pretty dark-haired girl winked at her, "Don't deny it, you do have a right to admire yourself. But anyway, can I…?"

"Of course." Hermione held back her scowl. She stepped aside, grabbed her bag and dashed down the stairs.

x-x-x

As she'd expected, her friends were waiting for her in the Common Room. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley grinned when she appeared.

"Morning, Hermione!" they greeted her.

The annoyance Lavender had made her feel dissipated. "How are you, guys?"

"Sleepy," said the red-haired boy with a big yawn.

"Why? Couldn't?" Hermione's eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, I slept well, but not nearly enough." Ron grimaced and rubbed his neck. "I spent like 3 hours doing my Defence against the Dark Arts essay and it's _still _not ready! Snape will kill me...! Or worse, give me a month detention!"

"Or worst, give you a month detention and then kill you?" Harry piped in, deadpan. Ron grumbled something incomprehensible.

Hermione chuckled. "Come on, Ron, is _that _you problem? I mean, all we had to do was write 500 words on the Unforgivable Curses. Mine's done since Friday!"

Ron and Harry shared a look and simultaneosly shook their heads.

Hermione pouted. "If you want to know—"

The redhead cut her mid-sentence by grabbing her hands. He stared into the her eyes with that innocent puppy-dog look that he knew would make her melt. "Hermione, please, I need your help!"

Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot. The way his fingers entwined with hers made her heart skip a beat. She avoided his eyes, but tried to sound as composed as possible when she replied, "Well, I guess I could—"

"Thank you!" Ron exclaimed, pulling her in a bear hug.

"... _if_ you don't kill me first!" She choked out.

"Uh, sorry..." Ron let her go and looked away, his ears reddening suspiciously.

She cleared her throat and straightened her clothes before saying, "It's fine. Let's go have breakfast, because I'm starving."

x-x-x

In the Slytherin dungeons, Draco Malfoy slowly awoke. His inner clock alarmed him he was going to miss breakfast, but the blond boy only stretched and enjoyed the sleepy numbness in his limbs. He'd had some sort of a nice dream, but had no idea what it had been. It should have involved a lot of movement, though, given the way he had almost strangled himself in his linen.

A pleasant dream was a welcome change for the Slytherin boy –a breath of fresh air given hus usual ones – the snake-like face, twisted in an evil smirk, the long fingers clutching on a wand like spiders, the word "Crucio", repeated over and over again...

Draco suppressed a shiver and felt the calm dwindle, leaving him anxious once again. He sighed deeply and got up, preparing for another day.

x-x-x

"Harry, please, you have to listen to me! You have no idea who this Half-Blood Prince is, following his instructions blindly like you do could be dangerous!"

Harry threw her an annoyed look over the rim of his teacup, but didn't reply. It was Ron who said, "Please, Hermione, you're just pissed off that someone's better than you at Potions!"

"I—humph!" She stuck her fork into the slice of bacon.

If she had to be honest, he was right. She didn't enjoy being overshadowed by someone, even when it was Harry. But that was only a part of the reason she wanted him to throw the book away. "I'm just worried, is all," she muttered.

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but Harry said in a loud voice, "In any case, let's go or else we'd be late for Potions."

"Group class with the Slytherins, the best start of the day," Ron complained before he trudged after them out of the Great Hall.

x-x-x

Whatever remained of Hermione's cheerfulness was completely gone by the time she entered the Potions classroom. Professor Slughorn greeted them with a complacent smile that boded no good.

Apparently her friends shared her uneasiness, because Harry whispered, "Is it me or is he up to something?"

As if to confirm their suspicions, Slughorn stopped them before they took their usual seats. "Mister Potter, could you and your friends please wait for a moment? I want to change your current sitting order." His smile grew wider. "In these dark times, one must strive for unity between the Houses, and what a better place to start off than the classroom? So... Harry, if you could, join Mister Zabini."

Harry gaped incredulously, his eyes travelling between the Professor and the boy sitting at one of the tables at the back of his room. Blaise Zabini, a dark-haired boy whose face was set in a permanent expression of boredom, didn't look more thrilled by the prospect, but said nothing

Slughorn cocked an eyebrow, _"Now,_ please."

Harry's shoulders sagged, but he complied. Slughorn's smile widened and he clasped his hands together. "Very well." He turned towards Ron. "Now, Mister Weasley, I want you to sit next to... Mister Crabbe."

"W-what?" the redhead stuttered, his face adopting a sickly green colour. (The contrast with his hair looked funny, Hermione mused.)

She squeezed the boy's hand sympathetically before he walked to his new place.

x-x-x

Draco snickered as he saw how Slughorn was making fun of his least favourite students. He was liking him more by the second. As pompous and long-winded as he was, he was making the _Golden Trio_ suffer, and Draco could appreciate that.

The boy looked back to where they were standing, and couldn't help but notice Granger's reassuring gesture towards Weasel. He smirked – he knew the ginger was thick, but even he was surprised by his obliviousness. If the Mudblood held a sign which read "I'm in love with you, Weasley!", it would hardly have made it more obvious.

The Slytherin stared at Granger, left alone in the middle of the room. He could tell she was uncomfortable – her cheeks were slightly flushed, she bit at her bottom lip and her hands were clenched in tight fists. However, the Gryffindor held her chin up and was glaring at the Professor.

Draco had to admit it, her defiance was somehow endearing. Not that he would ever say _that _out loud.

"As for Miss Granger, would you care to sit next to..." Slughorn looked deep in thought, his eyes scanning the unnaturally quiet room. The man beamed and clapped his hands, "Mister Malfoy."

The girl's shocked expression mirrored Draco's.


	2. Explosive Energy Movement

For several seconds, Hermione could only stare at the Potions Professor. She realised she was gaping, but couldn't even close her mouth. _He isn't serious, is he?_ She glanced at Malfoy. Even in her predicament, something at the back of her mind rejoiced when she saw the sheer terror on his face.

Then Slughorn, just to confirm Hermione in her conviction that he was evil, asked her, "Miss Granger? Could you please sit down, so that we can proceed with the lesson?"

"Yes, I'm sorry… Professor."

She walked to the table, aware of everyone's eyes on her, and took the place beside Malfoy. Pushing her chair as far from him as possible, she sat on its edge. Her hands itched to hit something – or some_one_ - but she settled for trying to bore a hole in the desk with her eyes.

Yet, movement from Malfoy's part of the desk made her look up at him. Their gazes met and she gasped.

In the moment his blue-gray eyes locked with hers, Hermione was overwhelmed by the dream she thought she'd forgotten. It remained a haze, but one thing was now crystal clear: these very eyes were in it. _Ah, no, _she argued with herself._This can't possibly be true._

She didn't realise she was staring before Malfoy smirked at her. "What, Mudblood? I know I'm handsome, but you don't have to drool. It's disgusting."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but, first of all, I wasn't staring. I was just wondering if that's a pimple on your forehead."

The blonde lifted a hand to touch his forehead, but then caught himself and tried to disguise the motion as an attempt to push his hair out of his eyes.

Without skipping a beat, the brunette continued, more loudly, "Secondly, you are quite handsome indeed," she paused, enjoying the light surprise that coloured his features before she finished, "for a _ferret._ And thirdly, if you call me Mudblood one more time, I will hit you." She then smiled sweetly, "Again."

She tilted her head – a silent dare for him to retaliate.

He never did. Instead of that, his eyes focused above her shoulder. She turned around slowly, only to see Slughorn approaching her. The teacher cleared his throat and said, "Now, if Miss Granger has finished insulting Mister Malfoy, we can as well proceed."

Malfoy had the nerve to look offended.

Cheeks aflame, Hermione looked downwards and pretended not to hear the muffled sniggers of her classmates.

x-x-x

Draco could hardly hide his amusement; Granger's humiliated expression was precious. What's more, bickering with her and making fun of her calmed him down – it made him reminisce the previous years when his biggest concern was how many times he had insulted Potter and his gang. He heaved a sigh.

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he looked towards the blackboard, where the ingredients for the potion they had to make were written. It was a Remembrance Potion. With another sigh, the blond boy took out his quill and a piece of parchment and began noting them down.

However, he would ever so frequently peek to the brunette on his left. He observed as she prepared a few earthworms and started chopping them up, a concentrated wrinkle appearing between her brows.

He didn't notice the ink drip down from his quill and drench the parchment.

"Granger."

"Shut up, Malfoy." After putting the worms into the cauldron, she had picked up a handful of thyme roots.

"Granger."

She didn't bother to look up from the cauldron, "I said, shut up, Malfoy."

He rolled his eyes. "I was just going to say that if you put another thyme root in the cauldron—"

"Why are you bothering with _my_ cauldron?" She finally looked up at him, lips pursed, and Draco had the nasty feeling her biggest wish at the moment was to put said cauldron on his head.

"_First of all_," he retorted, mocking her, "it's not your cauldron. We're supposed to be working together, remember?" She was about to interrupt him, but he raised his voice, "Secondly, you already put enough thyme root and if you don't stop, it's going to—"

_BOOM._

The potion exploded with a blinding flash of light.

A loud hissing sound filled the room; blood-red liquid poured over everyone. Draco felt the substance burn his skin and covered his face. Professor Slughorn was not the only one who shrieked.

In a matter of seconds, it was all over. The hissing sound subsided, redness stopped raining over them and most of the students calmed down.

Draco removed his hands from his face and his eyes widened – it seemed like a murder had taken place in the Potions classroom. Granger, having sat very close to the cauldron, was soaking wet. Drops of the red liquid streamed down her face. Her paleness and the terror in her eyes reinforced the illusion that she was covered in her own blood.

The pungent stench of iron spread through the room – the cauldron had melted into a formless puddle.

The Professor, who had regained his composure, all but ran towards them. With a wave of his wand, the hardening pool of iron disappeared. Then he focused at Granger with a furious look in his eyes. "What on Earth did you do, girl?"

"I-I," she stammered helplessly.

"She added too much thyme to the mixture, Professor," Draco chimed in. The glare Granger sent in his direction was terrifying; he thanked God that looks couldn't literally kill. Recalling that wands very well could, he hastily added, "But it's my fault; I didn't warn her in time…"

He trailed off. The moment his mind caught up with his mouth, he wanted to smack his forehead. _What the hell?_

By the stunned silence that filled the room, he could tell this thought hadn't crossed only his head.

Slughorn, even if he was surprised, managed to hide it. He cleared his throat. "I see. Mister Malfoy, take Miss Granger to the Infirmary. It is imperative that you keep her talking, do you understand? She must not lose consciousness." He stressed each word, his voice tinted with urgency.

Draco gulped down and noded.

He moved closer to Granger and grabbed her by the hand. Careful not to touch her too much, he pulled her to her feet. With his help, the girl staggered towards the door, but somewhere just behind the last row of tables, her knees buckled.

Draco was forced to wrap his arm around her waist to steady her. He steered her to the door and, despite the students' muttering, he heard Slughorn's last words, "Once Miss Granger's fully rocevered, you both will be able to have your detention."

"Figures," Draco growled once the door shut behind them.

"What?" The girl looked up at him through slightly unfocused eyes, her disdain apparently tamed by her condition.

"Nothing, Granger," Draco spat back right away.

Then he remembered the Potions Professor's warning and blurted out the first thing he could think of. "Erm, Mud- I mean _Granger_, will you be staying here during the Winter Break?"

"Well… Yes, I will. Even though Harry and Ron will be travelling back home. To the Burrow. That's Ron's house. Mister Weasley, Ron's father, is taking them to the Regional Winter Quidditch Cup. I decided not to join them - that's not really my cup of tea."

Draco's brows shot up. He hadn't expected her to say so much, but her sleepy, unsteady voice told him she wasn't really herself at the moment. Worried she'd drop dead in his arms, he pressed on. "And how will you survive being without your boyfriends?"

His provocation didn't have the intended effect."They are not—" the girl started, but then shook her head.

An awkward silence took place. The Slytherin wouldn't have minded to keep it, but, Mudblood or not, he didn't want to be blamed for Granger's death. Reluctantly, he offered, "So... do you like snow?"

"Snow?" The Gryffindor practically snorted. His absurd inquiry seemed to have worked, because she pulled away from his hands.

"Look, I'm not going to collapse, okay? You don't have to continue this... small-talk as if you cared about—"

In the moment she met his eyes, she broke off.

Draco didn't notice. He stared back at her as pictures of the forgotten dream flooded his mind.

x-x-x

_She ran forward and whirled, her cheerful laughter echoing his. A mischievous grin plastered on her face, she kicked snow in his direction. He faked a growland threw another snowball. It hit her in the chest. Gasping, she staggered backwards, but then hurled herself at him. Both of them crashed into a giant heap of snow. They struggled for dominance, and, quite predictably, he ended on top of her. His hands snaked around her wrists, preventing her from throwing snow at him._

_x-x-x_

_She looked up at him. His tousled hair looked silver. The sunlight made it even more lustrous, like an aureole around his face. His usually icy eyes twinkled with joy; the deep purple shadows underneath were for once invisible. _

_x-x-x _

_Her messy hair embraced her face, its red tints in contrast with the surrounding snow. Her rosy cheeks stood out against the otherwise pale skin. Her eyes -big, deep puddles of molten chocolate, were huge in mock horror, but she was grinning._

_x-x-x_

_With a teasing smile, he nuzzled his face into her warm neck._

_She giggled._

x-x-x

If before Hermione had been feeling ill, now she was completely overcome by nausea. Not because of the fact that she'd dreamed of Draco Malfoy. While that was weird and revolting, it was just a dream. Such things happened.

What made her want to scream in horror was the fact that Malfoy had dreamed of exactly the same thing.


	3. All Nightmare Long

Hermione looked around.

She stared at a portrait of a big-bossomed maiden arranging a rose bouquet, then at an old armour that held an ornate scabbard.

In fact, she looked anywhere but at the pale-haired boy before her, whose eyes bored holed through her. At a point, though, the silence started to crush her.

Fiddling with her sleeve, she said, "Well, uh… I still need to go to the Infirmary. If you'll, um, excuse me..."

She tried to turn, but she had taken just a single step before the ground rose to hit her. In one swift motion, Malfoy's hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her up. She managed a weak "thank you", fighting again a treacherous blush.

Malfoy didn't reply. Once he'd helped her regain balance, he released her, but he started walking alongside her in the direction of the Infirmary. She knew he was ready to catch her if the ground made another attempt to knock her out, and couldn't help but feel grateful.

This, however, did little to reduce the tension.

After some time - which seemed like an eternity to the girl - he broke the silence. "Did you do this?"

The sudden question caught her by surprise. "Did I do what, Malfoy?" she snapped, though she knew perfectly well what he was getting at.

"This. The bloody dream or whatever. Was that some stupid desperate love spell of yours?"

_Damn him._

Hermione jerked to a stop and faced him, her temper flaring. "No, you stupid conceited _prat!_ I would never do something like this, especially to you. If you're an even bigger idiot than I'd thought and have somehow missed the hints in the last six years, I _hate_ you. I completely despise you."

It was relieving to let that out, even as it made her feel even dizzier and she had to lean against the wall for support – Hermione knew for certain she prefered anger to awkwardness.

However, the Slytherin only smirked.

_Oh, for goodness' sake…_ She was just about to ask him what his problem was, or, even better, punch him, when a wave of complete, indomitable drowsiness overwhelmed her and her knees gave way. She got ready for the inevitable collision with the marble tiles, but none followed.

Instead of this, two strong hands caught her and scooped her up. If she had any power left in her body, she would have protested. She would have yelled, pulled away, anything. But she couldn't move.

Darkness was all she could see, but at the same time her other senses became keener. She felt her heartbeat and the way the air went into and out of her lungs. She was aware of the way her robes, still wet, clung to her body. She felt the texture of the foul potion on her face and its stench irritated her nose.

She could also feel Malfoy's arms holding her tight. His heartbeat was even and he moved with long calm strides. The monotonous movements relaxed her and she couldn't fight the slumber that overwhelmed her.

The world faded to black.

x-x-x

Noticing her pass out, Draco stepped on it. He felt worry creep into him; what if something happened? Slughorn had explicitly warned him against letting her fall asleep, but he had said nothing about fainting.

Thankfully, they had almost reached the Infirmary. He started walking as quickly as possible without shaking the girl in his hands.

A thought nagged at him. He was carrying _Hermione Granger._ Under normal circumstances that would have been a distressing ascertainment, but was there really anything to do about it? Of course, he could have just let her collapse and gone away, but two whole classes and a teacher had seen him exit the room with her; they would immediately blame him should as much as a hair fall from her head.

It would probably be worth it, but being sent to Azkaban would be a burden to completing his mission. _He_ would not be happy.

A thrill ran up the inside of his left arm.

_He_ would probably not be happy if he found out his slave had shared a dream with a Mudblood, either. And what a dream at that!

Draco scowled. He was forced to admit that Granger'd convinced him she didn't have anything to do with that thing – she had made her point perfectly clear. As far as he was concerned, the Gryffindor was positive that he was wearing the Mark.

The thrill ran up his hand again.

He tried to push back the dark thoughts and his mind drifted towards the dream again. If he had to be honest, he couldn't imagine Granger would go to such extremes. Assuming she was responsible for it was already a stretch – if nothing else, because he didn't think he was her type. That is, red-haired, poor and stupid.

What did make him feel slightly uneasy (not scared, Malfoys are never scared), though, was the intensity, the vividness of the dream.

He shuddered.

x-x-x

When Hermione came around, she realised she was laid down on a bed. A rustling sound reached her ears. She opened her eyes and once the black blots disappeared, she saw she was already in the Infirmary.

She tried to sit up, but her head started spinning the moment she attempted to lift it. She gave up and sunk again into the pillow, letting out a moan.

"Oh, you're awake!" came a voice from her left. Madam Pomfrey walked towards the bed and pressed a palm against her forehead. "Good, you don't have fever. How are you feeling? Headache, vertigo?"

Hermione groaned. "A bit…" Her voice was weak and hoarse. "W-what happened?"

"Mister Malfoy carried you here. Just in time, I'd say. Who knows how long it would have taken before that potion had drained the life out of you." The nurse scrunched her face. Murmuring something about lessons endangering students' lives, she walked away.

The next time she came to check up on her, Hermione had no time to ask about Malfoy before some foul tasting infusion was jammed into her mouth. She made a disgusted face, but the nurse only shook her head with an expression saying that she shouldn't complain.

x-x-x

Some time later, Harry and Ron burst into the Infirmary.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed and rushed to her side. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, better," she answered weakly. Harry squeezed her hand and she smiled at him.

"I was afraid that git Malfoy would try to pull something on you. If he did—"

"No, no, don't worry. He even carried me here after I lost consciousness."

A stunned expression bloomed on Harry's face, but before he could say anything, Ron burst into a tirade about how terrified _Lavender Brown_ had been by the mishap in Potions. The mention of that name was enough for Hermione to wish he hadn't come, but she sat through it, doing her best not to show how much it was hurting her. Not that it was unexpected - if you looked up 'tactful' in an antonym dictionary, it would stand right next to 'Ron'.

When the boys decided it was time to go, Harry stood up and carefully wrapped his arms around her. "Don't mind him, he's just an idiot," he whispered.

Hermione muffled her giggle in his shoulder.

x-x-x

"But I already feel better!" Hermione whined.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "My decision is final. You have to spend the night here, unless you want to exhaust yourself and spend the next week confined to the bed!"

The girl sighed. Despite her best efforts, the nurse remained adamant. "Fine," she said eventually and let herself fall back onto the bed. She had to admit it – it was comfortable.

Before Madam Pomfrey could bring her another portion of the nauseous medicine, Hermione had already dozed off.

x-x-x

_She was in a dimly lit room. Pressed flush against a wall, hiding. The room looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite recognise it – it changed ceaselessly. In a moment, it resembled the room the Dumbledore Army used to gather in, in the next it was a meaningless heap of old artefacts. Staring at them for too long made her head spin, as if the picture was distorted._

_And there, in the middle of the room, in the centre of the vortex, was a cabinet. It was the only steady thing in the room and right beside it kneeled a lonely figure. _

_The silhouette lacked the distorted quality of the rest of the room; in fact, it was startlingly clear._

_The person jumped to his feet and tried to run away from the cabinet, his movements looking confident, determined. In the next moment, a green light flashed and he was thrown back by the impact._

_When the lifeless body crashed on the ground, a stray ray of light fell on his head, reflected by pale golden hair. She screamed._

x-x-x

Hermione woke up with a start. She grabbed for her wand and whispered through trembling lips, "Lumos!"

The Infirmary was empty. Moonlight entered through the tall windows and played across the empty beds. Other than that, everything was still. The girl lay unmoving for several seconds until her heart stopped pounding. Then she relaxed into the hard pillow.

_It was just a nightmare. A simple nightmare._

However, she couldn't get rid of the feeling that the nightmare was way too realistic – in a way she hadn't forgotten.

x-x-x

In the dungeons, Draco Malfoy jerked awake. He was panting and covered in sweat. His whole body screamed "Danger!", but one look across the room proved that everything was peaceful. The only thing he could hear was the drumming of his pulse in his ears.

The nightmares were back.

However, there was something new to them. Something, which resembled Hermione Granger way too much to bode well.

_Bloody hell_.


	4. Keep Away

Hermione woke up with a start, nearly falling off the bed in her attempt to stand up. Her head was foggy; her muscles felt sore and numb. As she looked for her wand with urgency that bordered on desperation, she was suddenly hit by the realisation that no, she wouldn't be late for class. She was still in the Infirmary and she was supposed to rest.

Frowning, the girl dropped back on the bed. She wouldn't have been so confused if she'd had a proper night's rest, but unfortunately she wasn't so lucky. She'd slept in fits, sporadically jerking awake after she saw the same thing over and over again – the room with the closet, the killing curse, and, most importantly, Draco Malfoy.

Hermione rubbed her forehead. She was in dismay, but still absolutely positive that the person in her dream was indeed the Slytherin. And he'd dreamt of the same thing. She couldn't explain why, but she knew. Despite the fact that wasn't even supposed to be _possible_.

Yet… If she listened to her intuition, which she always did, then it was very possible and a fact. There was nothing to do about it but find out what the brat was up to. Because she could bet her wand on it – he _was_ up to something. She just had to discover what.

Drawing strength from her new-found determination, Hermione stood up once again. A plan formed in her mind – first, she had to learn more about the origin of the dreams, and then… She frowned again. Then she would figure out how to proceed. For now, she knew where she had to go – the library. The only place she could find the information she needed.

Her stomach growled.

The girl realised she hadn't eaten properly since yesterday. Hoping that some food would make her feel better, she decided to make a detour to the Great Hall first.

She grabbed her cloak and rushed out of the Infirmary before the nurse saw her.

x-x-x

A few floors below, Draco Malfoy contemplated skipping classes. Having been unable to sleep, he felt drowsy. Even drowsier than usual – an achievement for the boy, who hated mornings.

The stupid dreams had plagued him during the whole night. They were more like hallucinations, so realistic he could recall every single detail. But another thing bewildered him: how come Hermione Granger was in them _again?_

He had to get up and act as if everything was all right. Otherwise she'd bug him with questions. _"What are you scheming?"_ He could imagine her asking him that, with hands on her hips and a stern expression, like a teacher scolding her student. She was too predictable, with her desire to know everything and her foolish Gryffindor courage.

But she wouldn't get what she wanted this time. He would never tell her anything, and not only because so many lives were at stake.

With a heartfelt sigh, the blonde slipped off his bed and braced himself for the day.

x-x-x

He even managed to be on time.

As he arrived in the Great Hall, his eyes almost involuntarily travelled towards the Gryffindor table. To his relief, the one who he looked for was not there.

Draco took his usual place between Zabini and Parkinson and reached for the bacon. "Morning," said Blaise with an uncharacteristic smile.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Good morning," he replied. "I didn't see you in the Common Room today."

"Oh, right." Draco would have thought Blaise blushed if he didn't know that was impossible. "I had something to do," he explained before asking, "And how are you? Recovered after yesterday's accident?"

Draco only grunted in reply. The other boy took the hint and focused on his food.

Unlike him, Pansy scooted closer to him and said in a sing-song voice, "Good morning, Draco!" Her big black eyes searched for his, but Draco refused to meet them.

"Not in the mood, Pansy."

She pouted, but tried to press even nearer to him. "What's wrong, sugar?"

He sighed. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to climb into my lap," he said dryly. On occasion, he enjoyed her flirtatious behaviour, but today wasn't such a day. All he wanted was to be left alone.

"Fiiine," Pansy drawled and moved out of his intimate zone. Even so, he could feel her eyes on himself. He knew that as much as a glance towards her would open the floodgates of her curiosity. So he didn't pay her the slightest bit of attention.

He caught himself looking at the entrance again and again. At long last, Granger showed up. Before she could even reach the Gryffindor table, a whirlwind of red hair jumped up from it. Ginny Weasley tackled her friend in a bear hug that almost knocked her down. Still, Granger looked pleased as she hugged her back.

Her eyes, Draco noticed, darted to the other end of the Gryffindor table. He didn't need to look to know who she searched for. Her fists clenched, and – driven by inexplicable curiosity – Draco tried to see what had upset her.

Ron Weasley hadn't noticed his friend enter the room. He sat next to another girl and seemed absorbed in their conversation. If Draco's eyes didn't deceive him, they were holding hands.

_What a moron._

Draco resisted the urge to hit his head in the table. He looked at Granger – standing there, looking like someone had slapped her. For a second, he wanted to do something to make her feel better.

This time, he did slam his head into the edge of the table. It hurt more than he expected, if only because he felt like a House Elf castigating himself. His ego suffered a trauma due to the comparison.

Just then, Granger looked up at him. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. He could virtually feel her eyes digging holes through him.

His mouth twisted into a forced smirk before he pretended to turn away. Yet, he glanced back at her immediately afterwards, only to see her shake her head with an expression that told him she wasn't going to leave things at that.

x-x-x

Hermione let out a deep sigh once she was safe in the library.

Finding a table at the back, she threw her bag on it. She had snatched a toast from the Great Hall and now nibbled at it thoughtfully. Her appetite was gone now, and she knew why. The way that they've been sitting so close, staring into each other's eyes…

_Focus, Hermione, focus_, she ordered herself and shoved the unwanted images to the back of her mind.

She made a mental list of books she thought could help her, and then proceeded to take them from their shelves. It took a while to gather all of them, but eventually she was ready. She rolled up her sleeves and got down to business.

As she worked her way through the stack of books, her conviction she would find answers diminished. She'd even taken out a quill and parchment to take notes, but she didn't need them at all.

She couldn't find anything.

She tried tons of books – from _Classical Witchcraft_ to _Advanced Prophesies,_ but in vain. The only thing she found was a reference in a centuries-old book about Joint Magic - spells performed by two or more people. All it said was along the lines of: "It is a rare, though not obscure occasion to become a part of a shared dream. Little is known about this aspect of Joint Magic, but it is said it can have a dramatic impact on the lives of the people involved."

It was of little help, if any. It didn't fail to leave a bad taste in her mouth though – she found the last part ominous.

Several hours passed. The pile of books in front of her grew smaller, but the parchment before her remained blank.

At some point, she lost her patience. She let the book fall from her hands and leaned back, closing her eyes. She was tired and hungry and her head had started spinning again. Most of all, though, she was disappointed – she had wasted her time.

The only positive side of the whole occupation was that it helped her forget about Ron and his complete disregard of her presence. She felt tears well up in her eyes, but rubbed them away with her sleeve. She would _not_ cry for him.

She gave her eyes a couple of minutes' rest before she sighed and pulled herself together. She got up, eyeing pile of books in front of her; she had to return them to their places. Once she was ready, she was going to have lunch.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't hear the footsteps.

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat made her jump. She whirled around, his hand unwittingly reaching for the wand.

In front of her Draco Malfoy smirked, obviously amused by her surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"Granger," he began, ignoring her question. "I supposed you would be here. I received a letter from Slughorn. We'll be serving our detention tomorrow afternoon." He paused to roll his eyes before drawling out, "We are to meet at six in the Hallway and go to that idiot— I mean _Professor_Hagrid's hut."

"Hagrid?" Hermione scowled. "What will we have to do?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No clue. Something awfully thrilling and meaningful, no doubt."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Okay, thank you for letting me know."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow... Sadly."

He turned to leave, but after a few steps stopped. He looked over his shoulder and said, "By the way, Weasley is a moron. Don't let him get to you."

"I—_what?"_ Her brows shot up. However, he walked away without saying anything.

Hermione heard the library door slam shut. "Thank you," she muttered to the quiet room.


	5. Dazed And Confused

The following day was quite eventful for Hermione. Having failed in obtaining information from her most trusted resource – books, she decided to turn to her least trusted one – Draco Malfoy. She had to talk to him… And fate would not let her forget this fact.

Dawn hadn't broken yet when Hermione woke up from a well-known dream. Even though the rational part of her had expected it, she couldn't suppress a shudder. Deep inside, she'd hoped the nightmares would stop – and how awful they were was only part of the reason. The prospect of having to talk to Draco Malfoy about them terrified her almost as much.

_Yet_, a tiny little voice in Hermione's head murmured, _he might actually not be _that_ bad_.

Hermione blushed, remembering his words in the library the day before. He had tried to make her feel better – as impossible as it sounded, she was sure she'd heard right.

_I will give him the benefit of the doubt,_ Hermione decided, _he was probably drunk. Or sick._

However, she knew that wasn't the case.

x-x-x

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Harry's voice was tinged with worry.

"Yes. Fine. Perfect."

"'Cause you know, what with the Potions accident the day before and all..."

Hermione glanced up from her coursebook and at Harry, who sat on her left. Bright sunlight danced in Harry's hair, but his eyes remained shadowed, so she couldn't make out his expression.

Despite that, she was aware of his referring to Ron. That wasn't something she wanted to talk about, so she just smiled softly, "I'm okay, Harry, really."

And she was. She didn't have to mull over the whole thing again to know she would survive, with or without Ron's affection. After all, they were friends and she had to be contented with that. He meant far too much to her to let her stupid crush get in the way.

Not that she would ever tell him that. Especially not now, while she still felt anger sizzle inside her at the way he treated her.

She returned to her book. She needed to revise, so she had to make the most out of Flitwick's delay. The tiny Professor hadn't arrived yet (which wasn't anything new) and the Gryffindors were using the extra time to socialise. Constant chatter filled the Charms classroom, occasional laughter broke out and, much to Hermione's distaste, there was a parchment ball enchanted to fly around the room and bounce off the walls, and – quite often – off students' heads. Everyone was getting quite loud, which didn't exactly soothe Hermione's headache.

In a matter of seconds, the door burst open and a very dishevelled and very unhappy Ron Weasley made his appearance. _Speak of the devil_, the girl thought. She could bet the boy'd overslept, given that Lavender was already present – apparently no broom-closet snogging had occurred.

Not that she cared, of course.

"'Morning, guys," panted the redhead as he threw his bag on the table. He slumped in the seat on Harry's other side. The boy greeted him, but Hermione didn't deign to speak.

"Man, what's up with her today? Did she get up on the wrong side of the bed or something?" Ron asked in a whisper that was so loud that she couldn't ignore it.

_She can hear you, you moron_, thought the girl, but remained quiet. She stifled a yawn and returned to her reading – the Dividing Spell they would learn was definitely going to be a part of their N.E.W.T's.

Next to her, the black-haired boy put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. Without looking up, she smiled.

x-x-x

"Miss Granger," said someone behind her back.

The girl glanced over her shoulder and realised with a start that it was Professor Dumbledore who had called her.

She caught Harry's questioning look and shrugged her shoulders. "Go on," she told him and Ron, "I'll meet you at lunch."

Still looking dumbfounded, the two boys nodded. They resumed their way to the Great Hall, while Hermione, both curious and worried, walked to where the Headmaster waited for her.

"Hello, Professor," she said and before she could catch herself, asked, "Is everything all right?"

"Of course." The white-bearded man smiled. "I apologise for worrying you. I only wanted to ask how you were feeling after the accident in Potions."

Hermione tried to hide her surprise. It was unusual for the Headmaster to inquire about students' health. Accidents happened all the time; the Infirmary was virtually never empty. If he went and checked on everyone who had been there, he would have no time for anything else. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you. Madam Pomfrey fixed me up in no time."

The man nodded. "I'm glad to hear that. But then again, I'd never doubt Poppy's abilities."

_Then why did you ask?_ was the obvious question.

More or less guessing what she thought, Dumbledore looked at her earnestly. "Is there anything that's worrying you?"

Hermione hesitated for a split second before shaking her head. "Nothing, Professor."

"Very well." She thought she was dismissed, but then he added, "Ah, I almost forgot! Dress warm tonight, I suspect it's going to snow."

x-x-x

The rest of the day passed quickly, as if even time was against her. Her last class ended at five-thirty, which meant she had enough time to go to the Common Room and grab her winter cloak. After all, she wouldn't disregard Dumbledore's warning.

Stifling yet another yawn, she turned to Harry, "Okay, I'll get going. Don't wait for me for dinner."

He looked a bit worried, but managed a smile. "Take care, 'Mione."

"Thanks, Harry," she gave him a quick hug. Then she elbowed her way out of the crowd of Gryffindors that filed out of the classroom and hurried to the Tower.

x-x-x

Once in the girls' bedroom, Hermione let her bag fall on the floor before she collapsed on her bed. Her head was throbbing with pain and the only thing that sounded less appealing to her than going out in the cold was doing so with Malfoy.

She closed her eyes and didn't bother stifling the yawn that pressed at her lips. It seemed that yawning was her new favourite pastime.

If she could just...

The girl stood up abruptly. She couldn't afford missing the detention, it would certainly make her Professor even more bitter. With a sigh, she rose from her warm, soft and beckoning bed and turned her back on it. She took out her thickest cloak and, hit by an idea, dug into her closet.

There they were – her furry, warm, completely Muggle, but still amazing boots. She kicked her red Converse off and pulled them on without hesitation. She wiggled her toes inside with a satisfied smile. At least now her feet wouldn't freeze.

Realising that she was probably going to be late, Hermione dashed for the door... and collided head-first with Ginny Weasley.

Both girls squealed, but somehow succeeded in staying upright. Letting out a laugh, the redhead massaged the hurt spot.

"Should we run for it, 'Mione? You looked as if Death himself was chasing you."

Hermione chuckled, but couldn't help the embarrassed blush, "No, luckily. At least not this time… Actually, I will be late for detention, which could be even worse..."

Ginny's face fell. "Aww, too bad. The Potions accident, right? I bet Slughorn is pissed!"

The brunette nodded, "He sure is. All the more reason to be in time. So..."

"Yeah, right, sorry, Mione," Ginny let her walk past, but not before pecking her cheek. "And good luck. Hope you return in one piece. And remember, it would probably be worth it, but killing Malfoy would send you to Azkaban!"

Hermione mock-glared at her friend and then broke into a run.

x-x-x

She reached the Entrance the moment the clock struck six. Her heart raced in her chest and her breathing was slightly troubled, but she was glad she'd made it on time. Looking around, she spotted a figure leaning against the handrail in the base of the stairs.

"Exactly on time, aren't we, Granger," drawled Malfoy as he pushed off the rail and walked towards her, "as expected from a goody two-shoes."

"Funny, Malfoy, given that you were here before me," Hermione snapped and he gave a short, dry chuckle. _Granger vs. Ferret – 1:0_, she thought.

The girl noticed he also wore a thick cloak, rimmed with fur. _After all, he doesn't think his pure blood alone will keep him warm, hm? _ A grin tugged on her lips.

"So, shall we go see what the idiotic giant has prepared for us?" the blonde sneered, which wiped her smile away. She regarded him with a glare. For a moment, she wondered if she shouldn't jinx him on the spot, but then she just pushed past him. He wasn't worth the trouble.

While she walked to the gate, she heard him scoff from behind her: "Cool boots, Granger."

_Granger vs. Ferret – 1:1._


	6. Connections Are More Dangerous Than Lies

Mist covered Hogwarts' vast grounds, so thick that objects a mere foot away blurred and everything further than that was all but invisible. The pale disk of the sun sunk beyond the horizon and darkness stretched its long fingers towards them, surrounding, menacing, making them feel small and insignificant. The frost covering the dry grass shimmered in the lays rays of light. Chilly air pierced their lungs; tiny clouds of hot air thickened the mist when they breathed out.

Everything was quiet and deserted; they could easily be the last people on Earth.

Hermione and Draco took the small beaten track towards Hagrid's hut. They walked side by side, as far from each other as the path allowed, but their steps were in unison. Both of them were silent. The Gryffindor was busy mustering up courage to speak, while the Slytherin dreaded the moment that would happen.

"Malfoy," started the girl eventually, clutching her hands together in a nervous gesture. The boy didn't react in any way, which made annoyance start to build up inside her.

"Look, you're many things, but deaf is not one of them. Don't pretend you don't hear me," Hermione tried again, her voice sharp.

_"You_ look, Granger," the blonde hissed, "we're having detention together, not a heartwarming conversation, all right? Keep your mouth shut."

Her blood boiled and her right hand slid into her cloak's pocket, itching to grab her wand. However, she exhaled deeply. When she'd reined her anger in, she turned to the boy again and said in a cold, controlled tone, "I don't need any more proof of how stuck-up and arrogant you are, so cut down on the rudeness and listen."

He shot her a look. His lips twitched up with vague amusement, but there was something else in his eyes... Surprise? _He isn't used to anyone talking to him in that manner_, Hermione guessed, and the thought filled her with renewed confidence. She went on, "Do you have any idea of what's going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," came the all-too-quick reply.

"Oh, you very well do." She rolled her eyes. "Should I make it clearer? The dreams. The weird, crazy dreams of you I keep on having. Don't pretend you don't have them, too." Her voice sounded calmer than she felt.

Malfoy snickered, "I must admit I'm surprised, Granger. The Gryffindor _Princess_, part of the _Golden Trio_, dreaming of me!" he made the nicknames sound like the most horrible insults, and Hermione clenched her fist. "Apparently my charisma can get _that_ far..."

Her temper flared. With bright red cheeks and trembling hands, she stopped in her tracks and spat out, every pretense of self-control gone: "You obnoxious, pathetic excuse for a human being! How could you ever think I could be attracted to—to _you_! You disgust me!"

Malfoy had also stopped. He watched her with a smirk that she could see even in the fading light. "Anger management issues, Granger?" he shuddered in feigned fear. "You freak me out." He paused and then added without a hint of mockery, "But next time, save your breath. I have enough problems without having to deal with you."

"So you _are_ up to something!" she said triumphantly. He had resumed walking and she rushed to catch up. "Could it by any means be connected with the thing in the dream?"

"You mean the closet?" Draco asked… and kicked himself mentally the moment the words left his mouth. _Damn it, how could you slip, you bloody idiot!_

"Ha! I knew it! So your self control wasn't that good after all!" the brunette cried. She furrowed her brows, pondering how to proceed now that her suspicions were confirmed.

"Exactly as I thought," she began. The blonde looked at her in an indicationt he was listening. After his enormous blunter, he should at least hear what she had to say. "We are somehow sharing dreams, and it's really freaking me out. I haven't heard of such a thing before, and in all the books I checked, I found nothing. Zilch." A look of distaste settled on her face at the admission. "But if we assume that we haven't somehow become loony simultaneously," at this point the Slytherin smiled dryly, "then there is some meaning behind all this." She turned to face him and their eyes locked. Her next words were barely above a whisper. "Probably... I need to help you."

Draco was taken aback by this statement. His insides twisted as he struggled to make sense of it. _She,_ help _him?_ It was so absurd that he let out a bark of humourless laughter.

Granger winced in surprise.

He calmed down and did his best to conceal his perplexity. "I don't need anyone's help. Especially yours, Granger. Remember, I _disgust_ you."

The hoarseness of his voice evoked a twinge of guilt in her chest. "I'm sorry," she heard herself saying. The boy's eyes widened, but he was prevented from answering.

Hagrid's deep voice boomed from the mist in front of them, "'Mione? 'Tis yeh, isn't it?"

"Hello, Hagrid," the girl replied. A broad smile spread on her face as Malfoy adopted a look as warm as the South Pole in the midst of a furious winter.

The half-giant appeared before them, worried eyes gazing down at Hermione from his height of approximately nine feet. His big beard looked messier than usual and his moleskin coat was dirty. His whole appearance betrayed concern.

"Hagrid? What's wrong?" Hermione asked right away. Her intuition led her to believe the reason for Hagrid's uneasiness was also the reason she and Malfoy were here. Speaking of Malfoy, she shot him a glance. He stood a couple of feet to the side, his arms crossed, glaring murderously at an innocent pebble in his feet.

"One of the hippogriffs has run away," announced Hagrid.

Beside her, the Slytherin gasped with pure horror.

x-x-x

Half an hour later, Draco found himself being dragged deep into the ForbiddenForest. Against his will. Despite all of his protests, his begging and pleading… Not that he'd _literally_ begged and pleaded, after all, it wasn't a Malfoys thing to do.

As it was, he wasn't exactly dragged as well. He shuffled along, a few feet behind Granger and in front of the half-giant, who probably thought he wanted to escape. The boy had tried to explain that he wasn't particularly keen on hippogriffs, but to no avail. By the look in Granger's eyes, he could judge she thought him a coward, but currently that was the least of his concerns.

He preferred to be a living coward to a dead dare-devil. What's more, his experience with hippogriffs was enough to last him for a lifetime.

Yet, Granger's foolish boldness was rubbing off of him, because he followed her dejectedly. She held her lit up wand close to the ground, tracing the creature's footprints through the tangle of woods.

After about ten minutes, the girl gasped and came to a sudden halt. She bent lower and ran her hand over a stump. "There is blood here," her clear voice echoed in the night, "But that's weird, there wasn't any blood around the footsteps until now... It wasn't hurt before." She bit her bottom lip.

"What's so weird about it, Granger?" snapped Draco, "Obviously the creature has gone hunting."

The brunette looked back at him, mouth forming a little _o_. "…Oh. You could be right."

He rolled his eyes and was just about to reply when Hagrid rumbled, "I hope that my little Featherhead is fine..." The Slytherin was sure he heard a distinct sob. _I'm surrounded by_ _morons,_ he thought.

A few feet ahead, Granger stopped abruptly again. She turned and motioned to Draco to come. His wand at the ready, the boy stole after her.

They had reached a small meadow. The tall, brooding trees formed an almost perfect circle around it, hugging the patch of withered grass. It seemed the mist had been unable to sneak its way through the forest, as the air in the small open space was clear.

And there, in the sheltered circle, lied a hippogriff.

x-x-x

The creature'd positioned itself in the middle of the clearing and it occupied a good one third of it. Its silvery feathers reflected the scarce light from Hermione's wand, its beak glistening as it sharply turned to stare at the intruders.

"Featherhead!" Hagrid cried out.

"His wing is broken," gasped the girl when she noticed the unnatural way the animal's left wing was bent. Behind her back, two sharp intakes of air echoed her own.

"Proud creatures, hippogriffs are," explained the giant, sounding shaken, "They don't want the others to see them suffer, that's why it's run away."

"I will heal it!" declared the Gryffindor and prepared to walk into the clearing. "I know how... I think." Her voice faltered on the last words, but she held her wand up. If she didn't do it as soon as possible, she'd lose her nerve.

"No, Granger, you can't!" Malfoy objected, "It'll rip you to pieces, I know it from personal experience."

She looked back over her shoulder. "I can handle it," she assured the other two. "It—it's suffering." Squaring her shoulders, she neared the magical being.

Beady golden eyes followed her movements until she stood right in front of it and met them with her own. Without blinking, she gazed straight at the hippogriff. She curtsied nimbly, never breaking eye contact.

After a long, torturous second, it inclined its head in reply.

Hagrid clapped, "Yer amazing, 'Mione! Now yeh can touch 'im!"

The Gryffindor reluctantly neared Featherhead, gripping her wand so tightly that her hand began to tremble. She forced herself to calm down and moved the wand closer to the broken wing, so that the light could illuminate the trauma. "Poor thing," she mumbled under her breath, "whatever did this to you?"

Ever so cautiously, she raised her free hand towards the wounded limb.

The second her hand touched the injury, the hippogriff let out a piercing cry of pain and jerked back. The knife-sharp beak shot through the air, gaining momentum, before it dug into her right shoulder.

Hermione screamed. The wand slid out of her numb fingers, the light on its tip extinguished. She blinked furiously, blinded by the sudden darkness and the stars that swam in front of her eyes. Warm, sticky liquid soaked in her clothes. With a weak moan, the girl pressed her trembling hand against the wound. In no time, it was wet with blood.

She staggered back, away from the creature, instinctively knowing that it prepared for the next blow.

In the next moment, several things happened. With a flash of reflected light, the beak dove again, this time aiming for her chest. She barely had time to gasp when someone gripped her from the side and tackled her out of the beak's way. Before the painful impact with the ground, the person adjusted their position, so that she would land on top of him.

Hagrid screamed from the distance.

Her rescuer let out a gasp of pain and his body felt limp against her.

She lay motionless on the ground for a few seconds, dizzy, trying to figure out what had happened. She was still in one piece, as unlikely as it seemed. Dead grass tickled the side of her face. The scent of soil filled her nose before something else overshadowed it – a thick, but fresh fragrance, citrusy, with a tinge of something piquant. She inhaled deeply, and then another smell hit her – one of blood.

The jolt of fear clearing her head, she pushed off the ground and groped for her wand with her unharmed arm. "Lumos," she managed through teeth that she hadn't realised were chattering.

Hagrid had lunged at the hippogriff and now tugged at its neck, muttering to it as he tried to pull it away. The creature screeched. "There, there, ma boy, let's getcha home now," Hagrid tried to calm it down in a voice so agitated that Hermione doubted he would accomplish much.

On her right, Draco Malfoy lied sprawled on the ground, eyes closed. A gaping wound was visible on his back, and the red blood glimmered in the light of wand. Hermione cursed under her breath as she leaned in. When she gently touched the sore, Malfoy groaned.

"Don't worry, everything will be okay... We'll fix you," she sputtered, brushing the messy hair off her face. She pointed the wand at his injury and murmured a healing spell.

"There, you aren't losing any more blood. I'll turn you around now, okay?" She gripped his shoulder and pulled, careful, until she rolled him over onto his back. At the sight of his pale face, twisted in pain, tears welled up in her eyes. "Why did you do it? You could have gotten yourself killed!" she exclaimed.

"Tell me about it," he grumbled with a shadow of a smirk.

"Good, you can talk. All you have to do is remain conscious, okay? I'm going to bring you back to the castle and Madam Pomfrey will heal you in a instant, you hear?" She kept on blabbering as she rose to her feet. "Hagrid," she called the half-giant and he looked at her. "Bring the hippogriff back, and I'll get Malfoy into the Infimary, get it?"

Hagrid nodded, his face still a mask of horror.

Hermione focused on the Slytherin again. _"Mobilicorpus!"_ she pointed her wand at him and he lifted off the ground. His limbs dangled limply – apparently he had fainted. Again, fear almost overwhelmed her, but she pushed it aside. There would be plenty of time for it later.

With Malfoy floating in the air next to her, she navigated back throught the trees and towards the castle. She walked as quickly as possible, which wasn't much, as her own consciousness blurred because of the blood loss. Her sight seemed to be like a badly-tuned TV – it kept fading in and out. Every couple of steps, she tripped over the protruding roots, but somehow managed not to keel over.

She dragged her feet, step after difficult step, supporting herself on the trees when she needed, but never letting go of Malfoy. When they finally burst out of the forest, she could quicken her step. Her knees shook and she struggled for breath, inhaling and exhaling in painful rasps.

Vicious wind had set in; its icy claws pierced her.

Suddenly, white sparks bloomed before her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but then realised it wasn't her - it had started snowing.

Lowering her head to shield her eyes from the wind and snow, she kept walking.

By the time she reached the Infirmary, she was panting heavily. As the nurse rushed towards her, her knees finally buckled. It cost all her remaining strength to lay Malfoy on one of the beds.

The last thought that flickered in her mind was how ironic it was that this time she had carried the boy here.

Then she blacked out.


	7. Beyond The Sun

When Draco came around, he was in no hurry to open his eyes. Instead, he tried to figure out where he was, because the hard thing he lied on was definitely not his bed, as well as the thin object under his head couldn't possibly be his pillow. Even the light that played on his eyelids was different and the air carried an unfamiliar smell – the dry, sterile one of a—

He jerked to a sitting position, eyes flying open. A blazing tongue of pain ran up his back and he groaned. Carefully resting back again, he slipped his hand underneath the hospital gown he wore and touched the wound. It had almost healed; the skin under his fingertips had closed with only a thin scar remaining. Apparently, though, the injured muscles hadn't recovered yet.

"Are you okay?" came a worried voice from his left. On the bed beside his was Hermione Granger.

She sat with her back resting on the pillow, legs hugged to her chest. Her skin had lost its usual warm radiance and the purple circles under her eyes made it obvious she was exhausted. Her hair – more rather a bird's nest – was tied in a loose ponytail and the boy noticed something weird in her ears. After a moment's confusion, he remembered that Muggles called it _earphones_ or something to that accord, but he couldn't be too sure. Her arm was in bandages, and still she held a book. She carefully placed it in her lap while she stared at him.

"Yes... yes, I'm fine, I think," Draco answered, "my back still hurts, but I guess I'm getting used to hippogriffs trying to kill me."

Granger laughed softly, then yawned. "I'm glad to hear it." At his quizzical look, she hurried to explain, "I mean, I felt really guilty because of how you jumped to save me and then you got hurt and fainted and I brought you here and there was so much blood—"

"You're babbling, Granger," the Slytherin drawled, cutting her mid-sentence. "You might want to stop and take a deep breath."

She blushed and looked away, doing as he suggested. "Sorry," she murmured. Her fingers fiddled with the _earphone_ things. Her vulnerable expression almost made Draco feel bad for his remark – he realised she had truly been scared after the attack.

And she'd somehow managed to bring him back from the Forbidden Forest, even though she herself had got more than a small scratch. Once again, the Gryffindor's strength impressed him, loathe as he was to admit it.

In a minute, she gazed up at him once more. "Did you dream tonight?"

The unexpected question successfully put an end to his mental debate on the topic _Why am I being civil towards Hermione 'Know-It-All'Granger?_

Casually shrugging, he met her look. She watched him with intensity; he could almost hear the gears in her head turning, ready to process the information. "No, I didn't... I didn't?" His brows shot up in surprise.

The Gryffindor smiled victoriously and cried out, "I knew it!" As far as Draco was concerned, she was just about to jump out of her bed and do the victory dance.

He hid his own enthusiasm with a smirk at hers and waited for her to go on.

"I had a theory," she declared in a matter-of-fact tone, but he could clearly see the shine in her eyes, "I thought sharing dreams would not be possible if only one of us is asleep, so I decided to test my hypothesis. Turns out I was right!"

Draco couldn't help but admit she was quite clever to have thought of that. "That makes sense, I suppose."

She raised an indignant brow at his meagre reply.

"All right, all right," Draco gave up, wondering whether he'd hit his head when he fell. "It's rather smart," he offered his reserved praise and the girl nodded in acknowledgement. Still, he could spot a bit of the confusion he felt in her eyes, as well.

"You know," she mused, trying not to smile, "the medicine must be getting to you. You're less of a prick than usual."

The teasing glint in her eyes made him scowl. "Don't condescend, Granger. I can be decent when I want to."

"So you admit you usually aren't?"

His scowl faltered. She had a point. A smile threatened to spread on his lips, but he managed to keep a straight face. "Touché."

She shrugged nonchalantly.

Feeling the dynamic between them shift entirely in her favour, Draco had to bring them back from the tangent they'd gone off on. "Anyway, back on topic. I don't see how your discovery will help us," he voiced his scepticism. Scepticism was safe, the way she made him feel at ease certainly wasn't.

"Starting now, we'll take turns!" she beamed at him, apparently proud to have worked something out faster than him. Before he could digest the information, she slid down into her bed and wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself.

She looked perfectly fine with the idea of taking turns sleeping with her biggest foe. Or one of them. Draco flattered himself by thinking that she should be hating Voldemort a _little_ bit more than him.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, "And what do you expect me to do while you sleep? Aren't I supposed to recover after my chivalrous self-sacrifice?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but sat up again. In another second, she was out of bed, walking to his. Draco noticed her hospital gown barely reached her mid-thighs. He kicked himself inwardly when a part of him praised her long, slim legs. Not without effort, he looked up. There was something in her hand, something that she offered him. "You slept for eleven hours, now it's my turn. But you can have my iPod."

"Your i—_What?_ Eleven hours?" The girl nodded, smirking at his bewilderment. Hesitantly, he took the _something_ from her hand. It turned out to be her strange device – the one with those things you put in your ears.

"What on Earth is that?" He poked it with his finger. The thing flashed. He flinched and Granger laughed.

"This, Malfoy, is a music player. You can... make it remember all of your favourite songs and it will play them. Here," she showed him the earphone-or-whatever-it-was. "This is called an earphone. You put it into your ear, like that," she plugged it into his ear. He tensed slightly at her touch, but eyed her with curiosity.

She slid her finger across the _player_ again and suddenly he heard it. There was music playing in his ear. Muggle or not, this device was bloody _amazing!_

She chuckled softly at his expression and explained, "Touch here to change the song and here to regulate the volume, do you get it?"

"Of course I do, Granger," he scoffed as he took the appliance in his hands and started to inspect it. "This is a Muggle device," he stated.

"It is." Her voice said, _How did you notice?_

"Muggle devices are not allowed in Hogwarts. Hell, they shouldn't even work here!" He couldn't say if he was scolding or complimenting her.

"I know." He gave him a roguish grin. "Unless they're enchanted with a Concealing Charm."

"My, my, when did the Gryffindor Princess become such a rebel," he clicked his tongue. Yet, his words lacked their usual edge – a fact he almost hated himself for.

She paid him no mind and continued, suddenly menacing, "I will only warn you once, Malfoy, if you do _anything_ to my iPod, I will hex you. It's... really important to me."

"Yeah, whatever you say," Draco replied in an attempt at indifference.

She shook her head and returned to her bed, where she lay down with her back facing him.

He was completely fascinated with her iPod. _That's not bad,_ he thought as he read the song's title - _Beyond the Sun _by_ Shinedown_, _not bad at all._

Eyes closing, he let the music calm him down. He promised himself that when he opened his eyes again, the alarming sense of closeness with Granger would be gone; everything would revert to normal.

x-x-x

The sunlight had almost faded from the room when Hermione woke up. She stretched, back arching and a quiet sigh escaping her lips. She relished the feeling of victory - she had been proven correct. While Malfoy was awake, she was able to sleep as soundly as she'd hoped.

Speaking of Malfoy... She turned around and looked at him.

With a concentrated frown between his eyebrows and his teeth chewing on his bottom lip, he studied her iPod, tapping it with his wand.

In a split-second, she was scrambling out of her bed, awash with panic. "Malfoy," she hissed, "What. Have you done. To _my iPod?"_

He met her eyes and she saw the shock in his. "Nothing! I swear, I did nothing! The thing just... died in my arms!" If it wasn't for her worry, she would have sniggered at him – she had never seen him so alarmed. She snatched the device out of his hands...

And burst out laughing.

"You silly... The battery is exhausted," she found it so funny she couldn't contain her giggles. The boy's offended glare made it even worse.

With slightly flushed cheeks, he snapped, "Well, excuse me, Granger, for being a Pureblood and having no idea how to use these _things!"_

She sat on her bed, weak with laughter, but managed to suppress it a bit as she nodded. "But you like it, don't you?" she teased, "You like the Muggle thing?"

He scowled harder and opened his mouth, but after brief consideration, closed it again. Hermione had to press her hand to her mouth to bite back another gale of laughter.

She exhaled slowly and cleared her throat. There was something more important to discuss, she reminded herself. "So... apparently my assumption was correct," she said with no small amount of contentment. "I slept well."

He looked up, waiting for her to continue. "And I was thinking… How about making a schedule? Each of us will have... say, 5 hours sleep a night? It will still not be enough, but it's better than none, right?"

Malfoy slowly nodded, running his hand through his hair. "I need less sleep, 4 hours a night is fine with me. So... I sleep till three after midnight, and then it's your turn?"

Her eyes widened, "That's really... kind of you, you know?"

He shook his head, "Not really. You must use your time to find a way to get us out of this mess."

She frowned at his bluntness, but this was really the best she could hope for, so she gave a nod, "It's a deal."


	8. Ain't It Fun

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters.**

_Thursday, 20th Dec_

_Dear Mom, dear Dad,_

_Thank you for your letter. I'm glad that everything is fine and peaceful at home. You know – if you see or hear anything suspicious, you must get away as soon as possible. I'm repeating myself, but the situation is really serious. There are so many reports of murdered people it scares me. Every morning when the newspapers arrive people cross their fingers and hope they won't read something about their family._

_This year, everyone who wants to stay at school during the Christmas break (it starts this Saturday, by the way) is strongly encouraged. We'll even be hosting a Ball. I don't know who I'm supposed to go with, because – as I've told you – Harry and Ron are going to watch a Quidditch tournament. Ginny is also going with them, which means I'll be mostly alone._

_But I'm not whining. I will have plenty of things to do – such as studying. I will as well compensate for the lack of sleep in the last week (I think I've already mentioned that)._

_I am forced to spend more time with Draco Malfoy (if the name sounds unfamiliar to you, it's because I usually refer to him as to conceited prat, stuck-up or ferret. Yes, I'm talking about the same guy.) - we are assigned to work together in Potions and also – I don't know if I wrote about this in my last brief, but after my and Malfoy's poor excuse for a potion exploded last week - we have detention. We were also together in the Infirmary on Friday, but don't worry – I'm fine. Mostly because of him, I must admit – he saved my life. Despite making it in such a way that he could as well get himself killed, but one shouldn't expect a person like him to think clearly in risky moments. Side effect of being spoilt._

_I won a bottle of Felix Felicis (a potion for luck) on Monday. We had to work in the assigned pairs, and __Malfoy and I__ made the best Deception Potion. Harry was angry at me for letting Malfoy get this potion, he's still sure the ferret's up to something. (Not that he isn't right, but oh well...) So, Harry said I'd had to lose on purpose, but I was glad to finally be able to get back at him for using the stupid book – the old Potions one, which someone – excuse me, the_Halfblood Prince _-__has scribbled on, (and he couldn't this time, because Professor Slughorn said we had to know by heart how to make the potion), and I said he has obsessive-compulsive disorder, that's why he doesn't talk to me now. And Ron spends all his free time kissing Lavender Brown, so I feel kind of lonely._

_In fact, I don't have much time to reflect on my feelings, because everyone wants us to work really hard, regardless of Christmas knocking on our door._

_However, the castle is already decorated and it's gorgeous. Yesterday I helped Hagrid haul the dozen beautiful Christmas trees into the Grand Hall. Professor Flitwick once again used living fairies instead of toys. They are really cute and us with Ginny are contemplating stealing some for pets. Crookshanks will be a serious threat to their lives though. There is also mistletoe in the hallways and gangs of girls stalk Harry and try to bump into him every time he steps under one. It's hilarious._

_Unfortunately, I must finish now, because I mustn't be late for detention. Today is the second (and hopefully last!) time and we are once again to go to Hagrid's. I doubt he'll expect us to deal with hippogriffs this time. He must have noticed that these creatures do not really get along with Malfoy. And also, after we made the best potion this week, Slughorn's opinion of us has certainly improved, so he wouldn't want to menace our lives... I assume._

_As I think about it now, I bet he'll also host a Christmas party this holiday. I'm thrilled – to have to listen to an old man's babbling of famous people and how much he had influenced them. Sweet. And still – Ron is jealous that he's never invited, as if the whole thing was that big a deal._

_Anyway, I really must go now. It's 5.50pm and I have to go to the owlery and meet Malfoy at the entrance at 6pm._

_Miss you!_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

x-x-x

Hermione was panting as she reached the Entrance. It wasn't too big a surprise for her, but a sprint up to the Owlery and down again was tiring, even as she considered herself quite fit.

She leaned against the wall for support as she ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. While she was fixing her cloak, someone cleared his throat. She looked up to Malfoy, who was watching her with amusement twinkling in his gray eyes. The were so deep, sparkling like silver, and filled with something she couldn't quite make out... She took in the rest of his appearance – the thick shadows under his eyes, the slightly emaciated, pale cheeks, the messy hair. His whole look betrayed anxiety.

When Hermione realised she was staring, she quickly looked away and composed herself. She fought her blush as she glanced to the Slytherin again and noticed the smirk playing on his lips. Bothered by the uncomfortable (if only for her) silence that occurred, she heard herself saying the first thing that popped into her mind, "You should go out more often."

She saw his eyes widen ever so slightly as the smirk was wiped off his face. However, it took him no time at all to pull himself together and he snickered, "Acting like a mother goose now, Granger, aren't you?"

Hermione clenched her fists and glared at him, "Compare me with a goose one more time and you'll lose your ability to have heirs."

She let out a small laugh as he gaped at the prospect. He ran his hand through his hair wit a vain smile, "My fangirls will revenge me."

The Gryffindor snorted, "You bet. Pansy Parkinson will be first in line, right, _Drakey__?_"

Malfoy crossed his arms with a frown and just stood there, so she asked, "Are we going or what?"

"Whatever you say, ma'am," he saluted her as he exited the castle. She followed suit, but stopped in her tracks as she stepped outside.

x-x-x

Everything it the visible horizon was white. Fresh snow was glistening on the ground and tiny snowflakes danced as they descended from the darkening sky. She extended her hand and examined the delicate specks of snow which jewelled her sleeve. A happy grin bloomed on her face as she stood still, relishing in the sight. She started walking down the path, not really noticing it, her mind occupied with the first snow. It would have remained so, haven't it been for Malfoy, who drawled, "I would have never assumed you're so childish, Granger."

She snapped out of her reverie and turned to face him, grabbing a handful of snow and squeezing it. "What is your problem, Malfoy?"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Mud—" he wasn't able to finish his sentence, for he was too busy choking on the snowball that hit him square in the face.

Hermione sneered as she put her hands on her hips, "I told you I'd hit you the next time you call me Mudblood."

He wiped the snow away and smiled with a predatory glint to his eyes. "You are _so_ going to regret this," he pushed his sleeves upwards and dug into the snow, preparing a ball.

She laughed, "Bring it on."

And he did. He hurled the snowball at her chest, and when she dodged to the right, it hit her in the arm. She squeaked softly and made another ball, which she threw at his face but missed. He counter-attacked and the impact of the ball with her stomach made her gasp. She narrowed her eyes at him as she gathered some snow and slowly moved in his direction. He started backing down, but slid on some invisible ice and started flourishing to regain his balance. She used the moment and hit him straight in the face.

Startled, the boy landed on his butt and Hermione guffawed. She was laughing so hard tears rolled down her cheeks and had to lean forward and rest her hands above her knees, so she wouldn't fall too. She shot a look at Malfoy through moist eyes and the sight was so hilarious she almost choked.

The pale Slytherin's hair was a mess, his cloak turned white by all of the snow on it. He was dishevelled and the frown with which he looked up at her reminded her of a five-year old. He was flushed, bit tried to hide his embarrassment by glaring at her.

She managed through laughter, "What happened to the Slytherin Prince now? Little Draco is upset by falling in the snow, do you want me to call your daddy to help?" she cooed.

Malfoy's eyes flashed and his lips twitched upwards in a dangerous smirk. He took out his wand, and without breaking the eye contact, murmured a spell.

Hermione let out a startled scream when a dozen big, heavy snowballs bombarded her from all sides. "You jerk!" she hissed as she prepared for a comeback.

He swiftly jumped up and her ball missed him by inches. She scurried backwards as the boy slowly walked to her. She was about to turn and run for it, but he grabbed her shoulders with a twisted smile.

Her eyebrows shot up in confusion as she squirmed to pull away, but to no avail. Malfoy tripped her up and pushed her backwards.

"Eeek!" she squealed as she flew to the ground, and could only cling to Malfoy's robes, taking him down as well. He yelped in surprise as the both landed in a heap of snow. It was so big Hermione sunk completely in it. Malfoy had fallen on his knees, his hands on the sides of her head. Their gazes met and neither could suppress the laughter that escaped their lips – the whole situation was so absurd, two arch enemies playing in the snow, acting more immature than any of the both would ever admit to being.

Hermione noticed how very refreshed the boy appeared to be. Her gaze travelled upon his messy clothing and down to the arms that were surrounding her. And then she caught sight of something that made her blanch. She gasped softly, and, without thinking, trailed a tentative finger over the inside of his bare left hand, which was completely devoid of a Dark Mark.

"I-I thought that you...," she bit her lip.

He abruptly jumped up and adjusted his cloak, pulling the sleeves down. Any sign of amusement disappeared from his face as the silver of his eyes became as cold and callous as steel. His voice was low and raw as he replied, "Yes, Granger, I know what you thought – that you were having a _snowball fight_ with a Death Eater. Honestly, how loyal to your cause is _that__?_"

"B-but..."

He turned his back on her an walked in the direction of Hagrid's hut. She also stood up, her eyes boring into him as she tried to make out the reasons for the sudden change. Hesitantly, she followed. Malfoy threw her a cold look over his shoulder, "You must _never_ tell anyone about that, you understand?"

"But…," she tried again. He only glared.


	9. This Afternoon

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters.**

The detention went on in awkward silence. As Hermione'd predicted, Hagrid didn't expect them to do anything dangerous – they had to feed flobberworms instead. A tedious and monotonous activity, it allowed her to muse on what had happened earlier.

_Draco Malfoy wasn't a Death Eater_. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. He had always appeared to be cruel and spiteful, but really evil? Not really. She couldn't imagine him killing someone in cold blood, if only because he was a coward.

But recently, the boy'd changed. He acted more distant and withdrawn, his enormous ego looked diminished. And she could say the change was for the better, after all, he did save her life.

And Harry was so sure about him being a Death Eater! If only she could-

No, sharing with her friends was out of the question, and one of the reasons was that she didn't particularly want to elaborate on the whole situation.

Hermione shot a glance in the Slytherin's direction. He was frowning as he tried to stick a piece of lettuce in one of the worms' – for a lack of a better word – _mouth_. She chuckled at the sight, "If you continue like this, you're gonna choke the poor creature to death." The blonde glared at her and grumbled, "And what? There are _thousands_ of them!"

She shook her head in disapproval as she fed another bit of lettuce to a worm, "So what? Only because there are so many more like it, its life doesn't matter? As if it's its mistake to have been born as a worm."

"You can keep your preaches to yourself, Granger. _I'm not interested_."

"Continue with this way of thinking and you will soon receive that mark on your arm."

"What made you think that-, argh, stop it! No one must hear!"

"Why? Because you don't want someone to understand that Draco Malfoy is not as horrible as he appears to be?"

Contrary to her expectation, the boy only smirked. A hint of humour sparkled in his eyes as he answered, "Yes, after all, I do have a reputation to keep."

The Gryffindor blinked in surprise a few times before she snorted, "You're insufferable."

x-x-x

It wasn't long before they were dismissed. Draco couldn't miss the guilty look the giant threw at him as he was sending them off. However, the boy pretended he didn't see him as he turned his back on him. He made a seemingly involuntary movement to rub at the place where the hippogriff (the _second_ one) had hit him, and let out a soft sigh as he massaged the place. He couldn't turn to see if Hagrid'd noticed, but, judging from Granger's expression, she had. The Gryffindor rolled her eyes and elbowed him.

"What's up with you, Granger? You're hurting me!"

"Hurting you my arse, you deuce of a liar!"

"Oh my God, she can swear," he mock-gasped, pressing his hand to his mouth.

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

x-x-x

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked as she ran down the stairs into the Gryffindor Common Room, pyjama pants winding around her ankles. She almost tripped a few times, but she'd managed it – her friends were still there.

It was the 22th December and the Christmas Break was starting. Groups of Gryffindors with suitcases were parting with their friends, an unexpectedly big amount of people actually leaving the castle. Harry and Ginny were also there – looking at her with a mixture of surprise and amusement. Ron didn't notice the brunette, though, because he was kissing Lavender goodbye – _literally_.

Hermione ignored the couple as she turned to her other friends and explained, "I hoped... you hadn't left yet. And you haven't! I'm glad." She threw her arms around Harry's neck and pulled up to him into a tight hug. He chuckled as he hugged her back, their friction forgotten. After repeating the procedure with Ginny, Hermione smiled at the both, "You go have a wonderful holiday, okay? And take care!"

"Okay, 'Mione, you too!" the redhead smiled back, "I hope you won't bore to death here without my company."

The three laughed. "I will try not to," Hermione promised. She waved to her friends as they picked up their luggage and headed out. Harry grabbed Ron by the collar and pulled him off Lavender. Much to Hermione's surprise, he managed to unstick them – after all, they _weren't_ glued to each other. Hermione paid (almost) no mind to the twist of her stomach and focused on the other, more likeable Weasley. Just before she snuck out of the portrait hole, Ginny turned back with a mischievous smile, "And have fun on Slughorn's party!"

The brunette pouted.

Upon everyone's departure, the people who'd remained in the castle slowly emptied the Common Room. Soon enough, Hermione was the only one still there. She let out a sigh and went back into her room, which was devoid of any other girls. She was going to have it all for herself! A smile grazed her lips as she grabbed her towel and headed to the Prefects' bathroom for a long, relaxing bath.

On the next evening Hermione was sitting cross-legged on the armchair in front of Gryffindor's fireplace and reading a book. The Common Room was delightfully empty, since everyone was down for dinner. She, on the other hand, had decided on skipping it for once due to one simple reason: her stomach was already full.

She had just stuffed herself so much on lunch. But she couldn't help it – everything had been just _so_ delicious. The oh-so-crispy mince pie, with just the perfect amount of cinnamon...

A quiet _pop_ echoed in the room. The girl snapped out of her reflections, "Pride and Prejudice" falling on the ground. She bent to retrieve it and before she could see what was going on, there was another _pop_. She turned in the direction of the sound and saw a sheet of parchment dangling on the notice board. She hopped down from her chair, tracing the cover of the book in her hand absently as she walked to the board. The note read:

_For all students who have expressed desire to visit Hogsmeade, a trip to the village is organised for tomorrow, the 24th of December. You will be allowed to exit the castle after 9 am._

_Professor McGonagall_

Hermione smiled softly, plans of some last-minute shopping and probably a pint of butterbeer with Luna at the Three Broomsticks forming in her mind.

Tomorrow was going to be an awesome day.


	10. Burning Bright

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters.**

It was Christmas Eve. Having been snowing all night, at dawn the snow blanket reached a good ten inches of height. The weather was calm and mild and the white cover looked like a fluffy quilt which was enveloping the sleeping earth. Rare strokes of wind sent the glimmering flakes dancing in the air.

Hermione woke up to the smell of hot chocolate. And, sure enough, there it was – a big, steaming mug was staying on her bedside table. The girl smiled and pushed up to sitting position as she reached for the mug. The rich, thick texture of the drink slid down her throat, leaving her warm on the inside. At Hogwarts they sure did know how to pamper their students.

The girl snuggled tighter in her sheets.

x-x-x

In the Slytherin dungeons, Draco snuck into his bedroom unnoticed. He collapsed on his bed and wearily closed his eyes, massaging his temples. It had been a long night.

His eyes flickered open the moment the heard a quiet _pop_. His hand reached for his wand, but before he could react, there was another _pop_. He looked around the room and saw a big mug of something hot on his night table. Apparently a House Elf had emitted the pops.

The boy reached for the mug and sniffed at it. It was chocolate, and, God, didn't it smell delicious. He sipped and let the warmth spread through his body. That he had to admit – at Hogwarts they did think about their student's comfort.

He leaned backwards, once again letting his eyes shut.

x-x-x

Hermione was one of the first students to exit the castle. After heroically enduring Filch's paranoid search, she stepped on the path to Hogsmeade. She wrapped her striped scarf (red and yellow - she was a devoted Gryffindor) tighter around her neck and tried to ignore the cold which threatened to sneak under her cloak. The temperatures weren't that low, but after the booming fire in the Gryffindor Common Room, it was freezing for the girl.

However, she didn't let that dampen her spirits as she marched on. She enjoyed the sight of whiteness all around her and her music in her ears – in moments like these, she liked to be alone. Her gaze followed the footsteps of animals which encrusted the divine pureness of the snow.

x-x-x

Draco had to stick to his room for a while to prevent Pansy from stalking- excuse me, _walking _with him to Hogsmeade. Through the thick mahogany door he was able to make out her high-pitched voice calling him. By his nickname. He frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. The girl was nonbeyond redemption.

A few minutes – which felt like hours – later, Parkinson gave up. Draco heard the clicking of her heels echoing down the highway as her voice faded away. With a sigh the boy grabbed his cloak and scarf and snuck out.

The stupid Filch wanted to search every single one of the students leaving the castle, which was one of the most pointless activities the Slytherin had heard about – after all, bringing dangerous objects _out_of the castle was supposed to be good, right? However, the boy endured the search with a straight face – or, in his case, with a humourless smirk. But that was his usual expression and no one paid attention to it.

The walk to the village let Draco time to think and he didn't take heed of his surroundings.

He had to get the Cursed Necklace from Knockturn Alley, but not this part bothered him – apparating to and from Borgin and Burkes was a piece of cake. The problem lied within smuggling the thing into the castle. After a few sleepless nights he had concluded that the best way was using the Imperius curse. But the question was on _whom_.

Preoccupied with these thoughts, Draco almost collided with Blaise Zabini, who was looking at him in amusement. "Blaise! I didn't see you," the blonde exclaimed. "Yeah, I kind of noticed that. And where have you been? Didn't see you this morning."

Draco looked away and grumbled, "Business."

The darker boy laughed, "Hiding from Pansy again?"

The pale Slytherin rolled his eyes, "Do shut up... In fact, what have you been doing in the middle of the path to Hogsmeade, alone? Waiting for someone?"

His friend shifted his weight, avoiding his eyes, "No! Of course not! I was... tying my shoelaces."

Draco smirked, but let it slide as he resumed walking. He looked to Blaise over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, "Coming?"

x-x-x

Hermione looked up from her book as Luna Lovegood took the place across from her on the table and handed her a bottle of butterbeer. "Oh, hey Luna," she smiled and reached for the bottle, "And thank you."

"It's my pleasure," the other girl beamed, "I have to thank you for inviting me here today. I do not often get invited anywhere. It's a consequence of having no friends, I guess,"" Luna's voice bore no hint of sorrow, hurt or anything of the sort - she was merely stating a fact. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but the blonde continued, "No, it's not like I don't have any friends – there are you, and Harry and Ginny, and Neville and...," she looked away as a blush crept to her cheeks.

Hermione's brows shot upwards and she was just about to ask who her friend meant, but the other girl was again quicker – "Oh, I almost forgot to say that I am really sorry for making you wait, I had a minor issue today – the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks had stolen all of my clean socks."

Hermione was going to crack up, tried to disguise her laughter with a cough and ended up choking.

"Hermione! Are you alright?" Luna jumped up, her pale blue eyes huge with concern.

"Yes, yes," the brunette croaked as she wiped the tears streaming down her face. She took a sip from her drink and looked around. "Do you notice how crowded it is here today?" she mused.

And indeed – the Three Broomsticks had a busy day. There wasn't a single free table and Madame Rosmertha was scurrying all over the place, trying to handle with everyone of the customers. There was a variety of different people – not only Hogwarts students, but also all sorts of grown-ups – groups of witches, a table full of mysterious cloaked people, and – much to Hermione's surprise - a few goblins.

"Yes, you are right," answered Luna as she followed the other girl's gaze, "It is probably due to Uranus' third moon entering Pluto's orbit tonight."

This time around Hermione managed to keep a straight face, "Probably."

x-x-x

As Draco and Blaise reached The Three Broomsticks, the darker boy abruptly stopped, "I have to go now."

Draco cocked an eyebrow, "You do?"

Zabini raised his chin and nodded, "I do. See you later." Without another word, he turned his back on the blonde and left.

Draco's eyebrows merged with his hairline in a baffled expression.

x-x-x

"Oh my God, Hermione, I really have to go now!" Luna cried out. She jumped up, almost knocking the table over, gave the brunette a brief hug and dashed out of the restaurant.

"Okay, bye?" Hermione offered to the empty place before herself.

x-x-x

Draco tried to open the door to the Three Broomsticks, but was blown away by a pale petite thing, which crashed into him before moving along its way with no apology at all.

The blonde pouted as he raised to his feet and fixed his cloak, "What's wrong with all these people today?"

He was almost sure that the thing which had knocked him down squealed something about _Pluto_ and an _orbit_. He shook his head and finally entered the restaurant.

Inside, the temperatures were really high. It was packed with people and there was not a single free place. Draco looked around and his expression brightened as he spotted Granger. _She was the perfect victim_. He smirked at the irony – the Gryffindor Princess being the one through whom he was going to execute his plan.

His hand slid into his pocked and snaked around his wand as he headed towards Granger.

He sat across from her and she looked up from her book. "Malfoy," she stated, as if them sharing a table was an everyday occurrence, "What do I owe the honour to?"

"I decided to save you from the humiliation of sitting alone."

Her eyebrow travelled upwards as she smirked at him, "No place to sit, right?"

"Quite," he shrugged.

Her eyes glowed warmly as she smiled at him – the sincerest smile she had ever regarded him with. In fact, the sincerest smile anyone had regarded him with. His grip on his wand loosened. He looked away from the girl in front of him with a frown. "You're staring at me," he accused.

Granger rolled her eyes, but there was still a hint of a smile on her face, "You don't need to be such a sulker, you know," she said.

"Oh, really?" he snapped, "Well excuse me for not being all bubbly and cheerful – I do have my own problems."

She leaned forwards with elbows on the table, lowering her voice, "Then tell me about them."

He mimicked her pose and whispered, "I won't."

Then he stayed up and walked out, leaving her behind.

x-x-x

Hermione walked out of the bookshop with a nice big pack of new books and walked down the street in direction Hogwarts. Once again, her thoughts drifted to Malfoy and his 'problems'. She knew she had to do something – although she wasn't having any more dreams – due to her and Malfoy's regime - she felt them in the back of her mind, always there, daunting her.

She just couldn't leave things at that.

Hermione passed a jewelry store, but something she saw in the show window made her return and look at it.

It was a necklace – a silver dragon with spread wings and a twisted tail on a leather band. It looked beautiful. The girl smiled softly and entered the shop.

x-x-x

Draco was feeling guilty. And also cold and embarrassed, because he was pacing up and down the main street of Hogsmeade for a while now and people were starting to stare at him. But most of all, he felt guilty.

This was inappropriate.

Malfoys didn't feel guilty. They never did. And never regretted their actions. And they didn't let anything stand in their way.

And Draco had done all of these things.

Firstly, he didn't curse Granger with Imperius.

Secondly, he let her smile get to him.

Thirdly, we was feeling guilty for intending to use Imperius on her.

In a nutshell, the damn Mudblood was starting to get under his skin.

Just another thing in the list of things that Malfoys don't _allow_to happen.

Lost in these musings, Draco passed by a jewelry shop. For the third time, to be precise. But this time, something made him stop and look at the show window.

A pair of earrings caught his eye – golden, shaped like droplets and with beautiful red gems. Without realising what he was doing, the Slytherin entered the shop.


	11. Do You Know What I'm Seeing?

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters.**

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione strolled down the hallways, headed for the Great Hall. She was alone, but that didn't bother her one bit – it meant she could do things at her own pace. She would usually have to conform to Ron's permanent hunger and hurry for dinner, while now it was up to her when she would go.

The girl caught herself thinking about Ron and the rest of her friends. She hoped that they were having a great time, and, more importantly, that they were safe. Not that she didn't trust the Weasleys, it was just that… well, Harry had an affinity for getting into trouble. And the Death Eaters were gaining power…

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. She was over-thinking it again. Was she worrying too much? It was normal to feel uneasy, given the current turmoil in the wizard world, but… Maybe Draco was right – she did act as a mother goose sometimes.

Her thoughts drifted to the blonde Slytherin as they'd had in the last couple of weeks. Once again, she tried to find an explanation for his behaviour and once again, she hit a dead end. Something eluded her, she could tell – the missing piece that would complete the puzzle. What confused her was how they'd keep crossing each other's paths, as if something was constantly pushing them together. She had to admit her opinion of him had changed, too. She didn't regard him as an enemy, not anymore. But what did that make them? Not friends, by any means. Acquaintances? No, that wasn't right, either. And then there were the dreams…

A noise came from her left, making the Gryffindor stop in her tracks. It sounded like someone was talking in the small corridor she had just passed, but she couldn't make out the muffled voices. Judging by the pitches, it was a boy and a girl. Something about the female voice rang a bell. Her curiosity piqued, Hermione tiptoed into the darkish hallway.

When she got closer, she deduced that the sounds were coming from… the men's restroom? Now _that_ was confusing.

Hermione leaned against the wall and strained her ears. The more reasonable part of her mind objected to this invasion of privacy, but since she was eavesdropping, she could at least do it right.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" the girl's voice rang out. Hermione felt her heart speed up. _Could it be…?_ The girl licked her lips.

"Luna, I…" That was definitely a boy's voice and it had a familiar ring to it, but Hermione couldn't place her finger on it. However, her assumption was correct – the girl was definitely Luna Lovegood.

"I know what you want to tell me. I knew it would come to that, it was foolish of me to think that it would be otherwise." She spoke in her usual matter-of-fact tone and Hermione virtually saw her absent expression.

"No, you don't—" His voice, on the other hand, was tinged with annoyance.

"Please, don't say it. That way, a part of me will still be able to believe you don't mean it."

"Can you please let me explain…?" He sounded more and more urgent to the second, but Luna didn't seem to notice that.

"You don't need to. We're too different, this wasn't meant to work out. Your Slytherin friends wouldn't be pleased to see us together, I'm sure."

For a few moments, no one uttered a sound. Hermione caught her breath in fear that it would be heard in the ubiquitous silence. Then, she heard a sharp intake of breath and the boy snapped, "I see. Thank you for telling me what you think."

Then there were footsteps. Hermione barely had time to barge into the ladies' room before the door flew open. She peeked out and saw a boy's silhouette storming down the hallway.

The girl let the door close and sighed deeply. _That was close._

x-x-x

It took her some time to compose herself after the scene she'd witnessed, but she couldn't stay in the toilet forever. Ever so carefully, she made her way to the Great Hall.

Upon stepping into it, she was greeted by streams of warm light which immediately made her forget what she'd just seen. All of a sudden, she felt light as a feather and a small smile tugged on her lips. On evenings like that, it was so easy simply being happy and trying to make the others happy too.

It was then that Hermione decided she would help Luna. This thought made a full-blown grin spread on her face. She looked around herself in curiosity.

A multitude of tall white candles illuminated the spacious room, their playful light creating a homely feeling. In each of the four corners of the room, there was a tall Christmas tree with thousands of shimmering fairies. Instead of the usual four House tables, there were now only three which built a U-shape. In front of them stood the Professors' table.

All four tables were covered with so many different dishes and plates, full of unimaginable foods which made Hermione's stomach growl appreciatively. There were hardly any free seats and the girl had to walk to the far end of the U. She plopped on the seat, all the while wondering what she should start with.

"Are you stalking me, Granger?"

Startled, Hermione turned to look at Malfoy, who was sitting beside her. She hadn't noticed him before, because he was wearing a green hat with a pompon.

She giggled, "What's with the hat, Malfoy?"

"Don't be in such a hurry to make fun of me," he smirked at her, pointing to something on the table, "Here's yours."

Hermione picked up the shapeless red thing and inspected it. It reminded her of the ones she'd used to knit for the House Elves. "This is cute!" she exclaimed, putting it on. "Does it suit me?" she grinned at Malfoy and tossed the pompon backwards.

The boy stared at her blankly. "You didn't just ask me that, did you?"

She rolled her eyes and proceeded to fill her dish with mashed potatoes. "Come on, Malfoy, where is the Christmas spirit? Or you Malfoys don't do that?"

"What 'we Malfoys' do is our business, Granger. I don't see why you care anyway."

"You're such a spoilsport," Hermione accused.

"And you're acting like a baby," the blonde retorted, sounding vaguely amused. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Both students proceeded to eat quietly and for once, the silence wasn't charged with negative emotions. The clacking of forks against plates filled the room which was otherwise devoid of the usual chatters. Everyone seemed engrossed in their Christmas dinner and, truthfully, Hermione could understand them. Stuffing another piece of turkey in her mind, she let the heavenly taste occupy her senses.

Once most of the plates were empty and Hermione felt as full as ever, she leaned back in her chair and let her eyes travel through the big hall, looking for a certain someone.

She spotted her at the far end of the table and strained her eyes to inspect her more closely. Luna was poking at her plate, which was filled with untouched food. Her eyes seemed to bear a vacant look and as far as Hermione could make out, her whole appearance betrayed melancholy.

Hermione felt a pang in her chest – it was unnatural for Luna to look so… miserable? And as far as the Gryffindor was concerned, she wouldn't stay the same way much longer.

"Draco," she turned towards the boy and gave him her winning smile. Taken aback, he jerked as far away from her as his seat allowed him. The nearest people turned to look at the both, eyes widening.

"W-what do you want from me, Granger? And what is with the diabolical smile?"

Hermione felt the grin fade away and sighed. "Would it be too much to ask you to quit acting like a complete moron?"

"Depends on what you're offering in return," he retorted, his horror-stricken expression replaced by a smirk.

Some people laughed out loud and Hermione felt her cheeks grow hotter. She slapped her forehead. "Ugh, forget it. Honestly, you're beyond redemption."

"What do you mean, Granger?" he snapped with lowered voice.

Hermione let out a martyred sigh. "Look, I know it'd be difficult for you, but just listen to me for a moment, okay? I want to talk to you about something. _Important._"

She looked into his eyes pleadingly.

They looked so deep, you could get lost in them… And there were these little blue flakes dancing in them… Hermione shook her head, breaking eye contact.

"Do you mean… you-know-what?" He was frowning slightly, almost whispering.

She laughed a bit. "No, don't worry."

For a several seconds, she felt his stare on herself. Then he declared, "Fine. Meet me in the library in ten minutes."

She nodded and he pushed his chair back and walked out of the room.

_Why didn't he wait for the dessert?_ Hermione mused.

x-x-x

"Here." Hermione handed Draco a cupcake with chocolate icing. His eyes widened, moving between her and the cupcake. He didn't make a motion to take it and the girl shook her head exasperatedly, "Come on, I'm not trying to poison you or something."

Grey eyes bore into brown ones, neither of the both breaking the contact. After a moment that could have as well been an eternity, he reached up and took the dessert. Wordlessly, he took a bite off it and motioned for her to start talking.

Hermione figured it wouldn't be a good moment to scold him for his lack of manners and came straight to the point, "Has any of your guy _friends_ been acting weird recently?"

He gulped down. "Define 'weird'."

"Like, avoiding you, or refusing to answer your questions, or… You get the idea."

Draco studied her face carefully and she guessed he was trying to make sense of her question. "Why are you asking this, Granger?" She rolled her eyes, "Can't you just answer the bloody question, Malfoy, or is that too hard for you?"

He smiled crookedly – he enjoyed antagonising her, it was easy enough to tell. '_Tough luck,'_ the girl thought, '_that I'm not dancing to his tune anymore.'_

So she remained standing with arms crossed, staring down at him.

Finally, the boy broke the silence with a quiet grunt, "Fine. I will cooperate in the small investigation you seem to be bent on conducting."

x-x-x

**A/N: Hello, guys! I think this is the place I apologise for my prolonged absence (again). Take this extra-long, light-hearted chapter as an apology. And a way to get back on track, too. Also, a sub-plot, what is this? xD I slowed down the pace a bit, cause I feel this story is a bit… Linear? Plus, the relationship between the both needs development. ^^**

**Either way, I feel I'm babbling. So, thank you for reading! And a big thank you to everyone who added this story to their Favourites, you guys make my day. **

**Love it? Hate it? Leave a review! You know you want to ;)**


	12. The Struggle Within

"No, Granger, you cannot be expecting me do this! Just… Don't mention it anymore and I will forget that you even asked me, deal?" Malfoy sank into the armchair, covering his eyes with his hand.

"But, Malfoy-" the brunette argued, annoyance tingeing her voice.

"Granger," he interrupted her, "Even if I had time for useless crap, I wouldn't use it to fucking _match make_ Blaise with Looney Lovegood!" He removed his hand to stare at the girl, expecting a comeback at least as agitated as his small outburst.

However, the brunette surprised him. Not that doing exactly the opposite to his expectations was something new to the boy, but still he found himself taken aback by her actions over and over again.

This time, instead of lashing out at him, Granger sighed and dropped into the seat across from his, pulling her knees to her chest. For a while, she remained quiet, just staring off into the nothingness with lips set in a tight line.

The sudden silence made him feel uneasy, but still, he didn't want to leave. At least not yet. He might as well see what she was up to, right? It wasn't like he had any plans for the rest of the holiday or anything.

Soon enough, his patience paid off. "Why do you _refuse _to have feelings?"

He looked at her, frowning in confusion and anger. "In case you want to play a psychoanalyst or something on me, Granger, I'm not interested!"

She didn't seem to have heard him, or chose to disregard his comment, because she continued, appearing more and more irritated, "I mean, every normal person would feel at least a tiny bit of concern for their friends and try to help them, but you Slytherins insist on being oh so _emotionless! _ What's even up with you people? Does someone teach you heartlessness or does it come naturally? … Actually, don't answer that!"

She stood up once again, small hands curled into fists, eyes flashing, and stomped her foot. The childish action would have been hilarious if Draco weren't so pissed off. He jumped off his chair in turn and stalked towards her until their feet were almost touching. He tilted his head down to look square into her eyes.

They were so close that he could sense the sweet, barely perceptible cinnamon fragrance of her hair. Her chocolate eyes widened at his proximity, but she didn't move away, neither did her indignant expression falter.

"Don't judge what you don't understand, Granger," he growled. Her lips opened as she started saying something, but he quickly interrupted her, "Don't waste your breath."

He pushed past her and stomped to the exit, only pausing for a moment at the door. He glanced over his shoulder to the girl's silhouette, motionless next to the dancing flames in the fireplace. He shook his head sharply and walked out, leaving her behind.

x-x-x

The Slytherin Common room was even less welcoming during the night, when there wasn't as much as a single person to make it livelier. The fire had long since gone out and shadows crept from the corners of the dim, eerily green room. The only light came from the tip of Draco's wand, which was lying on the table. The boy himself was sprawled on one of the armchairs, legs across the armrest. His blank stare was locked at the ceiling as he wished for sleep to finally take hold of him. Yet, he knew it wouldn't.

Oh, how he hated Christmas.

He had always found the way people feigned happiness and benevolence disgusting. On any other day, they were rude and obnoxious, why would the holidays be any different? It was hypocritical and made no sense.

And it strained his nerves. Especially when it was a certain Gryffindor that did the whole 'happy and benevolent' thing. He wasn't even sure _she_ was feigning it. A couple of hours ago, he could have sworn her concern for him was genuine, and then… What happened then? He should have realised he was treading on thin ice, but it wasn't only his fault, was it?

Draco slapped his forehead, growling under his breath. He was overthinking it. Why should he give a damn about a stupid Mudblood's feelings? She could shout to her heart's content and see if he cared!

… Except she refused to leave his thoughts. So the pale Slytherin remained wide awake and restless while the scene in the library kept playing in front of his eyes.

x-x-x

_The room was dark. _

_Outside, a flash of lightning illuminated the stormy night sky. The thunder rumbled through the room, making his ears buzz. He kneeled next to the big wooden cabinet and ran his left hand over its surface. The second his fingertips touched it, a blaze of pain shot up his arm. He tried to scream, but no sound left his lips while the ache spread on the inside of his left forearm. It intensified until it became unbearable. Before his eyes, a brand bloomed on his skin and started spreading, forming the silhouette of a snake. _

x-x-x

Draco woke up with a shriek.

Sweat rolled down his face and his muscles were so tense he was trembling. He breathed in slowly, forcing his body to relax and his racing heart to calm down. After he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, he rolled it up to look at his forearm. Just as he'd thought, there was nothing on it.

He smacked his forehead._ Get a grip, _he told himself.

He'd fallen asleep on the armchair and when he tried to move, a painful _crack_ informed him his neck was stiff. With a grunt, he stood up and headed for his bedroom.

x-x-x

Hermione opened her eyes, knowing it was a bad dream she'd woken up from. She rubbed her forehead and shut her eyes. As much as she strained to recall anything, however, she couldn't.

The initial shock waned and she soon gave up. Whatever it was, it could wait until the morning. Probably. With a sigh, the girl turned around and let herself drift off again.

x-x-x

_This time, the room wasn't empty. There were two shadows there, shadows that could only be seen in the bursts of colourful sparks that lit up the room. Even so, he knew they were fighting. They shouted spells and curses, absorbed in their deadly dance, unaware of the havoc they were wreaking. _

_He stumbled out of the way, hoping that a badly aimed curse wouldn't hit him by accident. He struggled to think of some way to stop the fight, but his mind was as hazy and chaotic as the room around him. _

_Just then, everything seemed to slow down. The duelists, though still just silhouettes, became clearer. The cacophony of sounds subsided, until nothing was heard but their voices. _

_When he realised what one of them was shouting, a surge of energy ran through his body. Before he knew it, he jumped in the way of the ghastly green light. The curse hit him, and the last thing he heard was her cry. _

_Then the world faded to black._

x-x-x

It was barely 7:30 when Draco trudged out of his bedchamber. After his second dream, he had found it impossible to fall asleep again. All he could do was toss and turn in his bed, until he felt his restlessness was driving him insane.

The nightmares had taken a turn for the worse. They had been terrifying before, but at least he'd never experienced death by Avada Kedavra - until this night. In hindsight, he concluded he would have gladly passed up on it, had he been given the chance.

A part of his brain berated him for even falling asleep in the first place. He had broken his part of his deal with Granger, and he knew what that meant – she had once again shared the torment of his subconscious. When he asked himself why that fact made his sour mood even sourer, the only reasonable explanation he came up with was that he dreaded the interrogation he was in for.

Curiously enough, that explanation didn't sound very reasonable at all.

An hour and a long bath later, the Slytherin boy headed back to the dungeons. He'd hoped the hot water and scented salts would help him calm down and clear his head, but he found himself as annoyed as ever.

The merry atmosphere in the school did little to lighten his spirits. The handful of people who were awake at this hour seemed so disgustingly cheerful he almost developed diabetes. The walls were covered with garlands, mistletoe hung from the doorframes and everything was so bloody_ festive._

In his anger, Draco grabbed a festoon with glowing crystal balls and tore it off the wall, relishing in the sound as they smashed into the ground. Pieces of the decoration flew in every possible direction. The shattered glass, reflecting a myriad of colours, was an oddly beautiful sight.

Afraid he would be caught, he ran away.

x-x-x

In one of the Gryffindor bedrooms, Hermione lay in bed with her eyes fixated on the ceiling. Images from her last dream still haunted her; the promise of a wonderful Christmas day was the only thing that kept her headache at bay.

Any minute now, the House Elves were going to deliver her presents. And what could be more diverting than opening your Christmas gifts? They would surely call forth new worries – for example, how many Chocoballs she could have without turning into a ball herself. With such thoughts occupying her, she almost didn't hear the sound of the Elves apparating in and out of her room. She couldn't suppress the excited squeal when her eyes located the pile that had appeared at the foot of her bed.

Not wasting any time, the girl dug into the heap of glossy paper and ribbons.

Hermione Granger loved presents.

x-x-x

Since he'd woken up, the thought of gifts hadn't even crossed Draco's mind – that is, until the blonde saw the stack of prettily wrapped boxes on the floor in his room. He eyed them with disinterest at first, fully intending to ignore them, but then the childlike part of his mind took over. He scooped them up and put them on his bed, seating himself next to them.

Most of the boxes seemed to be the usual ones – gifts from his parents and his Slytherin friends (or rather, the people why wanted him to think they were his friends). Sweets and similarly common things that showed little actual feeling or interest in him and what he liked. He was sick to _death_ of quills and Chocolate Frogs.

Just as his enthusiasm began fading and he thought that this Christmas's gifts would turn out to be as big a disappointment as every other year's, something caught his eyes.

It was a small pouch made of indigo velvet. He picked it up, curious. A folded piece of parchment was attached to it, but he ignored it, venturing to untie the pouch's knot first.

Once he did, he turned it upside down and something metal fell into his hand. It was a pendant – made of solid silver and shaped like a dragon. Its eyes were black – made of onyx, perhaps, or obsidian – and seemed to have a soft glow at their core which had nothing to do with the dim light in the room.

Draco could only stare at it.

Some time later, he was hit by the thought that he had no idea who the necklace could be from – for as much as he knew, it could be cursed. He carefully put it on the bedcover and took the parchment that was attached to the pouch. He unfolded it, his eyebrows furrowed. The note consisted of a single sentence.

_"Malfoy,_

_Merry Christmas!_

_H.G"_

He shook his head slowly. _Stupid girl._ Still, he felt oddly grateful. The necklace looked expensive, it wasn't a mere trinket. Hell, it must have cost more than his so-called friends' gifts.

His thoughts drifted to the pair of earrings that lied on the bottom of his trunk. He had chickened out and hadn't sent them. Despite himself, he felt guilty. And a bit ashamed, too - she turned out to have more guts than him.

Draco neatly refolded the parchment and placed it aside. Then he took the pendant and pulled it on, hiding it beneath his robes.

The dragon felt oddly warm against his skin.

x-x-x

**A/N: It's alive! :D Are you excited? I am excited! I can't wait to share my work with you! I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Even if you don't, thank you for your time.**

**What did you think of the chapter? Leave a review to let me know!**

**Next chapter scheduled to be up on 12/27. Yay?**

**Oh, and in case you were wondering, I don't own Harry Potter or its characters. All I own is a laptop and an imagination that won't leave me alone at night. **


	13. Fix You

Like every other year, Hermione received a lot of books. Naturally, some of them she had already read, but one in particular caught her fancy. It was called _The Night Circus_, by a Muggle author – she hadn't heard it until that day, but after only a couple of pages she found herself unable to put it down. That's why, when she went out for lunch, it was later than usual. She supposed everyone else would have already eaten, but the book had completely absorbed her attention. Even when she left the Common room, her nose was still stuck in it.

Navigating a building of Hogwarts' scale while reading might prove a challenge for some, but Hermione prided herself in her ability to read while walking. Sure, that quirk might have earned her a few snickers or odd glances, but usually she was too engulfed in her read to mind them.

When she arrived in the Great Hall, she automatically headed for where she'd been sitting the previous evening. She put the book aside, only so that she could fill her plate, and then picked it up again.

Someone pulled the chair on her left, but she didn't turn to see who it was. After a moment of silence the person sighed and said, "I'm not sure doing that is particularly healthy."

"Get lost, Malfoy." She turned a page without even looking up at him.

He persisted. "I don't know about healthy, but it's certainly not _attractive." _

Hermione sighed and closed the book, facing the Slytherin. "That's because I couldn't care less about attracting _anyone_ who is currently present in this room. Unlike some other people, I'm not seeking any attention." With that, she focused on her food, attacking it with more ferocity than necessary.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy rub the bridge of his nose in an exasperated gesture.

A few minutes later, he put his fork down and turned to face her. "Blaise said he wanted to visit the library this afternoon."

"Indeed!" Her voice was dripping with feigned curiosity and then she finished in a deadpan tone, "And you are telling me this, because…?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Don't act stupid, Granger. I know a certain _friend _of yours," he frowned, as if the word had a bad taste, "who might also want to go to the library around… say, 4 o'clock today."

"What are you on abou—Oh. _Oh!"_ Hermione pressed her palms together with a grin, her sardonic attitude forgotten.

"There you go." She saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "Don't raise your hopes though; I doubt it will accomplish anything."

"Sure you do!" The girl couldn't keep her triumph from showing. "Tell you what: in exchange for your effort, I won't tell anyone about it. Your secret is safe with me." Before she knew what she was doing, she held out her hand. "Peace?"

Malfoy only hesitated for a split-second before he took it and shook it firmly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but – peace."

x-x-x

When Granger returned to her seat, Draco was just helping himself to a baked apple. He started eating it, careful not to make a mess. "So?" he shot the girl a questioning look before swallowing a bite.

The Great Hall was almost empty and there was no one in their close proximity. Even so, the girl kept her voice low when she replied, "I told her. She's going to meet _me_ in the library this afternoon." She chuckled. "Or that's what she thinks."

"I shtill shink that's a shtupid idea." He gulped down, "I mean,-"

"Haven't you been told it's impolite to talk with your mouth full?" She tried to sound reproachful, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.

Draco fought his own smile. Contrary to what he thought, there was something comforting about their new truce. He still couldn't wrap his mind around being on friendly terms with her, but he knew the only way to solve the mystery of the dreams would be to work together.

As if she'd been reading his mind, the brunette said, every trace of cheerfulness gone from her countenance, "So, umm. I wanted to ask you… Did you dream of something… you know, _extraordinary_ last night?" She didn't say anything about his breaking their agreement.

Draco nodded. Suddenly the apple in his plate didn't look as appealing as it had. He pushed it away, feeling queasy. "It was different."

"Yeah." Hermione bit her bottom lip, thoughtful. "Do you know whose that silhouette was? I didn't recognise the voice."

"No idea."

After a moment's silence, she tried again. "Any clue why it could have changed? Have you… _done_ something?"

"No."

"And you still have no idea what's caused those things?"

"None."

Granger slapped her hands against the table. Then, looking around and realising how loud the action was, she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Malfoy, you need to tell me what you're doing. That's the only way for me to help you!" Urgency tinted her voice.

He sharply turned towards her, seizing her eyes with his own. "What makes you think you'll be able to help me if you know what I'm doing? What makes you think you'll _want _to? Because you wouldn't. What you would want to do is run to Dumbledore and rat me out!" He stared at her intensely, daring her to contradict him.

For one long moment, she remained silent. Then she said, "Whatever you're up to, it won't end well."

He laughed harshly. "Good job figuring that one out, Granger."

Just as he thought she wouldn't say anything, she murmured, "After dinner I'll go to the library again, see if I can find anything." Her voice became stronger. "I'm not going to sit here twiddling my thumbs while you get yourself in God knows what sort of trouble."

"… Why?"

The question seemed to take her by surprise. Her forehead wrinkled while she pondered on her answer. Finally, she drawled, "Maybe it's because you look like someone in need of help."

He didn't have a chance to reply – taking her book, she pushed her chair back and stood up, about to leave the Hall.

"Granger!" he called out before she could walk away.

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

The girl nodded with a small smile.

x-x-x

For the remainder of the day, Hermione couldn't get back to reading. Her conversation with Malfoy nagged her and she felt she was idling when it was very important that she did something. Except… she didn't know what.

After dinner, she headed to the library. A part of her was convinced it would be in vain, but she still hoped she would have more luck this time. And if she didn't, well—she decided she wouldn't think about defeat unless it became evident.

She rushed down the empty hallways. The pale glow of the moon, dancing through the windows, created odd, ever-changing shadows. More than once did Hermione jump in surprise, thinking someone was following her and every time it turned out to be the play of light and reflection. The girl shook her head. She told herself she was being stupid – she was at Hogwarts, the safest place in the world, and yet, why did she feel so uneasy? Surely nothing dangerous could get into Hogwarts, could it?

She was still trying to convince herself that no, indeed it could not, when she reached the library. She knew it would be closed, so she was surprised to find the door ajar. However, there seemed to be no light coming from inside.

With a quizzical look, she pushed the door. It opened with a quiet sigh and she stepped into the library. The familiar scent of old parchment, dry paper and dust made her feel at home. She let her tense muscles relax. Madame Pince must have forgotten the door open; that was all. Or there had been a draught. Or—

Just then, a sound filled the library. It was barely audible, but still she couldn't mistake it. Sobbing. Hermione felt her heart grow heavy. She dropped her bag on a nearby table and made her way in the direction of the noise, trying to step as quietly as possible.

She found him next to one of the big windows at the far end of the library. His back was turned to her, but the glimmer of light on his pale hair made it impossible not to recognise him. His shoulders were sagging, his face buried in his palms.

"Malfoy," she whispered.

In retrospect, she couldn't find an explanation for what she did. The most logical action would be to turn back and leave before he'd seen her, but logic seemed to have deserted her. There was something so vulnerable, so fragile in him that struck a chord in her. She felt tears well up in her eyes.

Hermione acted on impulse. Before she could stop herself, she crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist.

He stiffened. Under her cheek, she felt the muscles of his back clench.

"It's me," she murmured into the fluffy fabric of his dressing-gown.

Several long seconds passed before he finally relaxed. However, the surprise seemed to be enough to cut his crying short. He just stood there, motionless, with her awkwardly hugging him from behind. When he breathed in and out, she could feel his chest moving.

x-x-x

Hermione couldn't tell how long they remained like that, silent and unmoving, before he finally shifted. Judging by his movements, she guessed he was rubbing at his face.

Then, he pulled away and she released her grip. He stepped closer to the window and propped himself on the frame. Without facing her, he asked, "What are you doing here?" His voice seemed hoarser than usual, but was otherwise calm and composed.

"Research, remember? I told you today." She sat on a nearby table and drew her legs to her chest.

"It's pointless," he said. "Everything's pointless; I don't know why you're even trying." His tone echoed his words – crestfallen, dejected.

Hermione frowned, but made every endeavour to sound upbeat when she replied, "That's such a defeatist way of thinking! If you want to do something, there's always a way."

"Maybe that's the problem." He turned to her, his bloodshot eyes searching for hers. "Maybe I don't want to do it anymore."

"Then tell someone! Tell _me!"_ Hermione raised her hands, exasperated. "It's not too late to change sides, Draco. There are still people who can help you, who can protect you."

His expression was replaced by one of puzzlement. "Did you just call me 'Draco'?"

Despite the seriousness of the moment, a smile tugged on Hermione's lips. "That's what you're called, isn't it?"

The boy smiled crookedly. "So I've been told." A second later, all amusement disappeared and he raised his voice, "You just don't understand! If I don't go through with this, I'm a dead person! And you'll do well to stop prying unless you want to head the same way!"

He pushed off the windowsill in a single swift motion and walked to her. He leaned in closer to her, until she had no choice but to look him straight in the eye. He licked his lips, clearly struggling to formulate his thought.

She was taken aback when Draco raised his hand - an unwitting, hesitant movement. Carefully, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on the side of her face, barely touching the skin, before he heaved a sigh and dropped his hand. The brief contact made the hairs on her neck stand on end.

The boy cleared his throat. "I'm warning you one last time, Granger. Back. _Off._ Trust me; you don't want to be dragged into this."

Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot; his proximity was unnerving. Yet, she bore his gaze without flinching. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible, but unfaltering. "I already am. I'm sorry, but I can't just let it be – both of us know I can't."

Closing his eyes wearily, he retreated to the window again. After a brief pause, he glanced at her. "Go to bed, Granger. I bet you could use some sleep."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "But what about—"

"Just _go._ I can research just as well as you. And it's not like I'd be able to sleep even if I tried."

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and stood up.

She had almost reached the door when she stopped and called out into the dark library. "Good night, Malfoy."

"Good night," came the quiet response.


	14. In A Darkened Room

The next two days passed by uneventfully. Hogwarts was as quiet and peaceful as ever – there were not enough people around to cause any sort of commotion and most of them were too overcome with laziness to even think about it. Peace and quiet reigned in the castle,

Hermione had time to catch up on last weeks' lessons – what's more, they were nowhere near enough to make her forget Draco Malfoy and whatever it was he was involved in. Every so often, she would find herself thinking about that part of the castle where he currently was.

Finally, she got so annoyed with herself that she decided to go and find him. Without dawdling, she sprang up from the armchair she'd been sitting in. She ran into the bedroom, grabbed her cloak and darted out again. The scrolls she'd been writing were left to lie scattered on her table.

However, combing through Hogwarts was no easy task, not only because of the sheer size of the building, but also because it offered a multitude of hiding places for those who needed them. If you didn't want to be found in the castle, they you likely wouldn't be.

Before long, Hermione started wishing that she had the Marauders' Map. She felt stupid for not asking Harry to give it to her before he was off. In hindsight, that seemed like a brilliant idea. But, as the saying goes, it's no use crying over spilled milk, so the girl focused on the task at hand instead - she had work to do, with or without the Map.

Despite her best efforts, though, the search was in vain. More than an hour had passed before she gave up. Her heart was racing from all the running up and down stairs, and yet she saw no hide nor hair of the Slytherin boy. With a dejected sigh, she decided she'd go out to cool her head and promptly headed towards the yard.

x-x-x

The air was crisp and cool. Hermione breathed in deeply and when she exhaled, a cloud of mist spread in front of her eyes. As it dispersed, so did her worries.

For a while, she just roamed aimlessly, taking in the winter scenery. The canopy of snow stifled all sounds, the world was perfectly still. Then, the crunching of footsteps other than her own pulled her from her thoughts. The girl stopped and looked back just when a voice reached her ears: "Hermione!"

It was Luna.

The blonde stumbled through a heap of snow and stopped in front of her friend, panting, flushed a deep hue of pink with exertion.

"Hi, Luna!" Hermione exclaimed, feeling guilty that she'd forgotten about the girl. She'd never found out what happened with Luna's rendezvous with Blaise Zabini. Now that she remembered about it, she was overcome with curiosity. That posed a question, however: how to ask without revealing that she was behind it?

"Hermione," Luna puffed, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she smiled, "How about you?"

Luna muttered an answer, her eyes fixed on a point above Hermione's left shoulder. Her blush seemed to deepen. A couple of seconds later, she composed herself enough to ask, "What happened with our meeting in the Library the day before yesterday? You never came… Are you all right, Hermione?"

It was Hermione's turn to feel embarrassed. She said, "Well… I was very tired and I fell asleep. I'm really sorry for not letting you know…" She did her best to look apologetic. Then, looking the other girl straight in the eyes, she asked, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"That is… One way of putting it." She seemed to choose her next words carefully, "Did you know there'd be… someone else there?"

Hermione had difficulties containing her smile. Feigning confusion instead, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"It doesn't matter." Luna blushed. "I, uh- Thank you, Hermione."

This time, her satisfaction got the better of her and Hermione grinned. "Luna, could it be that you… hypothetically speaking, that is, met someone in the Library that you – strictly hypothetically, of course – talked to and… hmm, made up?"

"Hypothetically?" Both girls laughed. "Er, yes, I guess that happened. Still, if you don't mind me asking, where do you know this from? Don't take offence, but you have never been much good at Divinations."

Hermione chuckled. "None taken." She wrapped her arm around Luna's shoulders and said, "Let's just say I have my sources."

Luna gave her a knowing look. "I think I know a thing or two about your sources."

"Um…" Hermione's cheeks grew hot. "Let's head back, shall we? I'm freezing!"

x-x-x

Later that evening, Hermione still felt her fingers numb. Regardless of how close to it she got, the fire in the Common Room just didn't seem to be hot enough. When it seemed that she had to crawl into the fireplace in order to warm herself, she decided a long bath would probably work better. As daunting the trip to the Prefects' bathroom was, the promise of hot water won over.

The girl mustered up the power to head out, driven by the thought of the sweet-scented soaps. The vanilla one was her personal favourite.

Sixty minutes later, Hermione lay in the huge bathtub, wrapped in fluffy foam and the mouth-watering fragrance of vanilla and cinnamon. Humming under her breath, the girl drew her fingers over the lather and traced patterns. She felt her muscles relax; the tension in her body dissipated. Submerged in the hot water, it was hard to remain awake. And she would probably have fallen asleep - if it weren't for the fact the water was slowly growing cold.

So, Hermione reluctantly got out. The air was chill against her naked skin and she shuddered. She dried herself with a towel before putting her clothes on. The touch of her pyjamas reminded her of home; the girl smiled. Even though her father used to laugh at it, Hermione found their sheep pattern adorable. She pulled her baggy blue sweatshirt on and ran a comb through her damp hair.

Once she was ready, she left the bathroom. She was about to take a short cut to the Gryffindor rooms when she suddenly felt, rather than heard, that someone was nearing her.

Acting on instinct, she slunk in the alcove behind the nearest armour. And just in time, too – the sound of footsteps reached her ears when the person passed right by her.

Hermione peeked out, only to see a familiar blonde head. The body that was attached to it – belonging to no one other than Draco Malfoy - snuck down the hallway. By the way he looked around himself every couple of steps, it was evident he was up to no good.

She almost called out to him, but then changed her mind. When he reached the end of the hallway, she left her hiding place. Hesitating only for a second, she followed him.

x-x-x

Hermione was glad she'd opted to put on her sneakers – with them, her footsteps were merely a whisper against the floor. Remaining unnoticed didn't pose a challenge; the night shadows, the niches and small hallways offered her protection. However, the Slytherin was no easy prey - he knew where he was going and he picked a complex, barely traceable way there. Several times Hermione thought she'd lost him.

The chase through the sleeping castle seemed to last a good quarter of an hour before Malfoy finally reached his destination.

Even in the darkness, Hermione had no problem discerning where they were. She smacked herself inwardly for never having thought of it – it was now painfully obvious. There couldn't be a better place for his mysterious deeds than the Room of Requirement. The girl pressed her hand to her forehead, fuming on the inside.

Meanwhile, the door had appeared and Draco walked in. Hermione dashed towards after him, trying not to make any noise, and reached the door just as it'd started to close. She stopped to catch her breath and sneaked in.

x-x-x

At first, the room was dark. The girl halted near the door, deeming it best not to move as she could knock something down and reveal herself. She could hear Malfoy shuffling on her left and then a candle flickered aflame.

In the faint light, she saw a small niche near where she was standing. She quickly stepped into it, pressing her back flush with the wall. Her heart was racing in her chest, but even though it seemed as loud as a drum, she thought she'd remained unnoticed.

When she ventured to peer out of her hiding place, there were already several candles burning. At first, she could only make out the irregular shapes of objects scattered around, but when her eyes adjusted, it occurred to her that she'd seen the room before. What's more…

It was the room from her dreams. She was sure of it – although she'd never properly seen it, her gut feeling assured her it was the same place. The last bit of doubt disappeared when she saw the object in the centre – a cabinet.

Hermione was overwhelmed with a feeling of déjà vu. She saw the Slytherin boy circle around the cabinet, every so often pausing to tap it with his wand. His lips were moving – he was probably casting spells, but the girl couldn't catch the words. Her mind had gone blank; she was at a loss. For what felt like a long time, she stood motionless, her eyes locked on the boy's figure.

Eventually, Malfoy stopped in front of the closet. He ran a hand over its door and heaved a loud sigh. Then he squared his shoulders, opened the door and stepped in.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. Her confusion grew – as baffling his previous actions had been, entering a cabined seemed downright ridiculous. For a moment, she considered walking over to see what was inside, but suppressed her curiosity. She was going to wait until she received an explanation.

For what seemed like a very long time, nothing happened. Hermione started to feel drowsy and cold, but struggled to remain alert.

The candles steadily melted away.

Then suddenly, a creaking sound came from the cabinet, followed by Malfoy himself. The boy stepped out with what seemed like a triumphant smile on his face. He looked around warily and shook the snow off his hair.

… Snow?

Hermione gasped.

As soon as the noise tore the silence in the room, she realised her mistake. She covered her mouth with her hands, but it was too late.

Malfoy had already drawn his wand, his gaze fixed right at her hiding place. He stalked in her direction faster than she'd thought possible. Instinctively, she reached for her wand, but her hoodie's pocket was empty. She'd left it back in her bedroom.

"Who's there?" the boy shouted. He was only a couple of steps away from the alcove. "Show yourself!"

The tip of his wand pointed at her chest.

Hermione cowered away from him, aware of just how vulnerable she was without her wand. She knew she couldn't hide but still hoped the wall behind her would somehow open and swallow her.

"Lumos!" Malfoy said and the light of his wand lighted up her hiding place.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like a deer caught in the head-lights. The brightness burned her eyes through the eyelids as she braced herself for what was to come.

x-x-x

**Thank you for reading! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, and that you don't mind the cliffhanger... ;) Next chapter scheduled to be posted on Jan 1st. Are you looking forward to it, or do you want this story to burn in hell for all eternity? Let me know by leaving a review!**

**Meanwhile, I wish you a great New Year's Eve and an even greater start of 2013. See you next year!**

**Oh, and I forgot to say so in the previous chapter, but I still don't own Harry Potter. The story and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, who, simply put, is amazing. **


	15. Audience of One

"Granger?"

Trying to pull herself together, she breathed out slowly. Then she opened her eyes.

Malfoy seemed to have relaxed his grip on the wand a bit, but he was still pointing it at her. His face betrayed his confusion, but then it contorted in anger.

He narrowed the distance and grabbed her by the shoulder, pressing the wand under her chin. "What did you give me in the Infirmary after we were attacked by the Hippogriff?"

Hermione looked at him, perplexed. "What are you—Oh!" It dawned on her. "I-I gave you my iPod, er… Music playing device?"

The boy sighed and nodded. Apparently her answer was enough to confirm she wasn't an impostor. He lowered his wand and pocketed it, but his hand still squeezed her shoulder. After the moment of relief, his enraged expression returned and he shook her roughly. Her teeth clattered.

"What are you doing here, you idiot!? I told you not to follow me; I warned you, but no! Silly, stubborn girl!"

His fingers were digging into her skin and Hermione let out a soft groan. She bit her lip, but the sound was enough to sober the Slytherin up. He let go of her and dropped his arm.

For a while, neither of them spoke. And then Hermione, who'd regained her composure, dared to ask in a small voice: "What is that closet?"

Malfoy's dry laugh surprised her. "You never give up, do you?"

She shook her head and let out a small, relieved laugh. "For a second there, I thought you were going to kill me."

He seemed preoccupied when he answered, "No, I wouldn't do that…"

After another moment of silence, he snapped out of his thoughts and muttered, "You're already far too much involved in this whole thing. I guess there's no point in keeping anything hidden anymore." He glanced at her from underneath furrowed eyebrows. "Sooner or later, you'd probably figure it out anyway."

Hermione couldn't tell if he was complimenting her or reproaching her for prying. Knowing him, it was probably a bit of both. She slowly nodded her head and slid to the floor. She sat cross-legged and leaned on the wall. Looking up at the boy, she smiled and pated the floor next to her. "I have a feeling it will be a long story."

He hesitated for a second, then heaved a sigh and plopped next to her.

x-x-x

Hermione patiently waited for him to begin his story. She knew opening up was not something he was used to, so she respected his need to order his thoughts. She suspected she was the first he was going to tell this story to, and a part of her felt flattered.

Finally, he took a deep breath – like a diver plunging in the water – and began speaking. "This is a Vanishing Cabinet."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to the girl. "What does it do?"

"When paired, two of them create a passage between two places, no matter how far away they are. When you enter one of them, you appear in the other."

"So… Like a Portkey, sort of?"

He nodded. "Sort of."

"And where is the second cabinet, then?"

He glanced edgeways at her. Hermione realised she might have asked for too much and was about to tell him not to mind him when he said, "Borgin and Burkes."

"What, you mean that horrible scary shop on Knockturn Alley?"

"That same one." Unexpectedly, he smirked a bit at her. "Scary, huh?"

"Yes! It gives me the creeps, seriously!"

"I find it brilliant."

She rolled her eyes. "I bet you do! It's a part of the tough creepy guy façade you put on, isn't it?"

He elbowed her in the ribs, chuckling quietly. "I've got to take you to "Borgin" sometime; you can't appreciate its real value without a good guide."

Hermione couldn't help but smile - most of the tension that the room seemed to be charged with had disappeared. Then it occurred to her how unlikely a situation they were in and she let out an incredulous laugh. "You always manage to surprise me," she muttered.

"What?"

"Oh, never mind." She cleared her throat. "Where were we?"

"The Vanishing Cabinets. Apparently it was the Weasley twins who discovered this one," he nodded towards it, "and they trapped Graham Montague in it."

"That's it!" Hermione exclaimed. To Malfoy's bemused look, she explained, "I knew I'd heard about that thing. So that's how you learned about it?"

He nodded.

"And… What are you going to use it for?"

The moment the question left her lips, the temperature in the room seemed to drop drastically. She realised she already knew what the answer was going to be and she instinctively braced herself for it. Still, a shiver ran down her spine when she heard it.

"To let Death Eaters into the school." His tone was even, lifeless.

Hermione could not stifle her gasp. She tried to say something, but all she accomplished was to stutter an incoherent reply.

Malfoy interrupted her in an annoyed voice. "C'mon, Granger, you're smarter than that. Don't act as if you didn't expect this."

"Y-yes, but… You can't do that!"

"Yes, I can." Again, he spoke with studied indifference. "You saw me do it, the cabinets are working."

"But think about all of the students here!"

"You think I haven't!? Why would I choose to do this in the middle of the Christmas break, when there's barely anyone around, then?"

His tone softened and he looked sideways at her. "You shouldn't have been here, either…"

His words took a second to sink in and then Hermione felt her cheeks starting to burn. She scolded herself inwardly. "But you still can't do it! You're better than that, Malfoy, don't let yourself become like them!"

"I have no choice…" He trailed off, and when he continued, his voice shook ever so slightly," He—He said he'd kill my parents if I don't obey."

Hermione opened her mouth, but, not knowing what to say, closed it again. It was only now that she realised why he had appeared so troubled and miserable. Immediately, she felt guilty for every harsh word she'd ever said to him; she hated herself for speaking without considering what he could be going through.

Words failed her, but her hand found his and she squeezed it tightly. His fingers were cold. After a moment's hesitation, he intertwined his fingers with hers.

They just sat there for some time; neither felt the need to speak. Eventually, Hermione gathered the courage to ask him another question, "But aren't they… His people?"

He laughed bitterly. "As if he gives a damn about that! He'd kill his own parents if it advanced his plans!"

In a whisper that was as quiet as it was filled with emotion, he added, "I hate him."

On hearing that, Hermione spun around and fastened her eyes on his. "Then don't help him! There is another way!"

For a split second, his eyes widened. Still, he tried to keep his voice emotionless when he asked: "Yeah? And what is it?"

"Tell Dumbledore."

For a while, he didn't answer. Then he sighed and looked away, breaking eye contact. His grip on her hand tightened.

"Promise me you'll think about it," Hermione insisted, her voice gentle.

Eventually, he said, "I will."

Hermione sighed, relieved, and a soft smile bloomed on her face. She knew she had to be happy with her success, but now that the shock was wearing off, another feeling overcame her. Tiredness.

Until now, she hadn't realised how fatigued she was. But now, in the ubiquitous silence of the Room of Requirement, she felt her limbs go heavy. She rested her head on the wall and let her eyes flutter closed. Somewhere in the void between reality and dream, she felt Draco's head fall on her shoulder. She absently noted that his hair was tickling her neck… and then finally, she drifted off.

This night, neither of the both had nightmares.

x-x-x

**The new chapter as promised! I hope you enjoyed it; it's actually one of my favourites. Though I'm not sure if I succeeded in conveying the tension and emotionality of the scene. That's for you to say. **

**In other news, Happy New Year! May 2013 be full of happiness, productive and interesting!**

**Oh, and I want to thank everyone who added my story to their Favourites/Alerts. I'm really glad you like it! **

**Also, reviews make my day! If you want to make a poor writer happy, drop me one today. :)**


	16. So I Need You

The tickle of sunlight on his cheek woke Draco up. Even without opening his eyes, he immediately knew two things: one, he was not in his bedroom; and two, he was cold. He also seemed to be in a rather uncomfortable position – half sitting, half lying, with his head rested to the side. His body was warm and heavy.

When he tried to lift his head, his neck cracked loudly.

The noise was enough to chase the remaining sleepiness away and his eyes snapped open. The events from the night before flooded his mind. He looked to the side, knowing full well what he was going to see. Still, the sight came as a bit of a shock: Hermione Granger sleeping with her legs tucked underneath her and her hair falling in waves around her face. She looked peaceful; a serene expression made her otherwise pretty face even more beautiful.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to have noticed him stir. He pushed away from her as carefully as he could, hoping he wouldn't wake her. After last night's talk, he couldn't bring himself to talk to her – at least not before he'd thought things through. He thanked the Heavens she hadn't woken before him.

Just then, he encountered a problem - his hand was still tightly clasped in his. At the recollection of them holding hands, he felt his cheeks start to burn. He shook his head in embarrassment - he was not a person who blushed. But then again, he was not a person who held hands with girls either, but the Gryffiindor had him doing things he didn't think he was capable of. For better or for worse, she was changing him.

Pushing such musings out of his mind, he tugged at her hand. To no avail - her grip was too tight. Draco heaved a sigh, weighing his options. He could pull his hand free, hoping that it wouldn't wake her up, or he could wait for her to let him go. Or…

He took his wand out of his pocket. Tapping his chin with it, he tried to come up with a suitable spell - he didn't want to accidentally cut his (or her) hand off. Somehow, he didn't think that would go unnoticed.

Finally, he remembered a spell that could work.

He pointed the wand at their intertwined hands and muttered: "Eripio!" A wave of warmth spread though his hand while Granger's dropped to the floor. She remained sound asleep.

Draco bent his fingers and frowned when the inflowing blood made them burn. He rubbed the pins and needless away.

That girl was stronger than she looked.

Draco pushed himself up to his feet. Now that he had fully woken up, he felt refreshed, even energetic. A smile grazed his lips – it'd been a while since he'd last got a good night's sleep.

He glanced at the Gryffindor girl in his feet. He owed it to her. Somehow, admitting that to himself didn't make him angry or embarrassed; it felt good to say the truth sometimes.

Granger shifted slightly and sighed.

Draco wondered if she wasn't cold. Tilting his head, he looked at her. She wasn't particularly warmly dressed, only in pyjamas and a sweatshirt.

A closer look had Draco covering his mouth with his hands, trying to stifle his laughter. Only now did he notice that her pyjama bottom was patterned with pictures of fluffy sheep. He wondered if he could blackmail her with that…

With great effort, the boy made himself calm down. As amusing as it was, the pyjama looked thin, and the marble floor of the room was cold.

Draco unpinned his cloak and carefully wrapped her in it. The chilly air bit his skin through his sweater, but he took no notice of it. His eyes were locked on the girl. When she stirred again and a contented smile spread on her face, his own spirits lifted.

The Slytherin boy walked out of the Room of Requirement, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. The looming shadow that was the Vanishing Cabinet was left behind; its daunting presence forgotten at least for the time being.

x-x-x

When Hermione woke up, the first sensation that she became aware of was a citrusy scent. It felt oddly familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Still, it was fresh and comforting – its sweet, yet musky smell reminded her of summer nights around the bonfire; she inhaled deeply, letting it seep through her body.

Yet, a question penetrated the sleepy haze of her mind: where was she? The room didn't quite feel like her own, and she was far too uncomfortable to be lying in her bed - or any bed, for that matter. As the last shreds of drowsiness disappeared, she realised her feet were numb. Raising her arms above her head, she stretched lazily. Her blanket slid down, leaving her skin exposed to the cold air.

Wait. Her _blanket?_

Her eyes snapped open and she abruptly sat up. A look revealed that it wasn't a blanket; it was a cloak. And it was not hers.

She finally remembered where she was.

The Room of Requirement was filled with pale sunlight. Just like the night before, various objects lied, stood or hung from the ceiling. Some of them looked new, while some were covered with layers of dust. The room itself was far bigger than she'd expected - From where she was sitting on the ground, she couldn't see where it ended.

What she could see, though, was the Vanishing Cabinet not twenty feet away from her. In daylight, it looked massive and imposing. The girl pulled herself up, taking Draco's cloak. She absently put it on, fidgeting with its pin while she walked over to examine the closet.

It was made of solid black wood, its surface uneven and unpolished. Hermione reached over and traced the veins that ran through it.

She frowned when a possibility occurred to her. What if Malfoy had lied to her? Sure, his story sounded plausible, but he had no reason to be honest, especially with her. All it would accomplish was to endanger him and his mission. He could have easily made everything up. And yet, she somehow knew he hadn't. She had got to know him better since their shared dreams began, and her gut feeling told her he had been honest.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to try it, would it? A small peek inside the cabinet would be enough to prove he had told her the truth. And if she was careful, she would be safe.

Preoccupied with these thoughts, she stepped towards the cabinet's door. She turned the handle and the it opened with a creak. A gust of cold wind greeted her, carrying a whiff of something she couldn't identify. Hermione peered in, but all she saw was darkness. She stuck her hand in and groped about. Nothing. She tried to reach the opposite wall, but couldn't - the cabinet appeared to be bigger on the inside.

Maybe it was a TARDIS.

Hermione giggled at her own silliness.

"What's so funny?" came an amused drawl from behind her.

Startled, the girl whipped round. Malfoy stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, and observed her with his signature smirk.

She opened her mouth for a caustic retort – or an apology, she wasn't sure - but no sound came out. The boy's smirk grew into a full-blown smile and he stepped into the room.

"When I told you I'd take you to "Borgin and Burkes", I didn't think you'd be so eager."

Hermione pointedly rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I realised I had left you all alone with the Vanishing Cabinet. I was ready to bet the temptation would be too much for you and – look at that! – I was right."

He leaned on the cabinet, looking at her mischievously. His eyes seemed brighter than before, and the circles underneath had faded.

"Here, I brought you this." Only now did Hermione notice he held something in his hand. She took it from it and opened the napkin it was wrapped in.

"Apple pie!" the girl grinned. The scent of baked apple and cinnamon spread around her, making her mouth water. "It's not poisoned, is it?" She teased.

"Just eat, Granger."

"Just eat, Granger," she mimicked him, but his expression made her chuckle. The boy looked away and Hermione thought a faint blush had coloured his cheeks. With a smug smile, she pulled a chair that stood nearby and sat down. Then, she focused on the pie.

While she was eating, she noticed Draco was stealing glances at her. He pretended to be tinkering with the cabinet, but she kept catching him look at her. His light eyes unnerved her; she could get lost in them. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "You're staring," she accused.

He didn't reply immediately. When he did, the smirk came to his lips again. "I'm just admiring your pyjamas. Love that sheep pattern, very posh."

She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms self-consciously. "There's nothing wrong with my pyjamas!"

"Sure," he sneered.

Hermione shook her head with a feigned scowl. "I was wondering when the old Malfoy would return."

His teasing expression faded into one of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You know," she said matter-of-factly, "Bullying me, calling me "Mudblood" and being an all-around jerk." She shrugged with a smile.

She expected him to play along, but instead he grimaced. He ran his hand through his hair, looking at his feet. Hermione was about to explain that she was joking when he crossed the room that separated them.

He stopped in front of her chair. She looked at him, eyebrows raised, and was surprised when she saw remorse in his serious look. "I think an apology is in order," he started, "I… I didn't mean the things I said, not really. I guess I was jealous, to an extent, but still… Saying those things was inexcusable."

Hermione laughed nervously, at the same time touched by his words. She knew how much it must have cost him to say them. Realising he was waiting for a reply, she started, "Well, I've said some mean things to you, too… Speaking of which, I also owe you an apology: sorry for hitting you that one time."

"You mean in Third year?" He smiled bitterly. "Don't apologise, I really had that coming."

"Yes, you did." The memory made her giggle. "Oh, you should have seen your face."

Malfoy pouted. "Shut up."

Hermione shook her head. Much of the tension had disappeared. She stuffed the remaining pie in her mouth and wiped her lips. After she gulped down, she smiled at the boy. "Thank you."

He nodded. "Don't mention it."

She stood up. While she was straightening her clothes, it occurred to her she was still wearing Malfoy's cloak. She took it off and handed it to him. "I think that's yours."

He shrugged, taking it. "I figured you would be cold, and thought you've spent enough time in the Infirmary because of me already."

"Fair enough." She chuckled. "And you have a point – I wouldn't be surprised if Madame Pomfrey had beds reserved for us there."

He cracked a smile. "Me neither. Are you going?"

She nodded. "I should head back to the Gryffindor Common Rooms, in case anyone's noticed I've been missing the whole night."

"I see. Later, then."

"Later." She headed to the door, brushing past him. When she walked out, an odd feeling started gnawing at her. It was dissatisfaction, she admitted to herself – her communication with Malfoy left her with a sense of incompleteness. She wanted to talk to him more, to see his eyes light up when he smiled. It was no longer about his secret or his dealings with the Dark Lord or anything; it was simply about him.

The revelation was as startling as it was obvious: Hermione Granger was falling for Draco Malfoy.

**Good one, Hermione, took you long enough to figure that out. :D**

**Anyway, I'm posting this a little bit late - it's already the 4th here, but I hope you're not too mad at me! More importantly, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's rather lighter/fluffier than the previous one; had to relieve the tension... That is, if the last chapter could be considered 'tense'.**

**But I'm rambling again. Thanks for reading, please consider leaving a review. They make my day! Seeya in the next chapter (which should be up on Saturday!)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and its characters.**


	17. Shed Some Light

Later that day, when Hermione walked back from dinner, there was a soft smile on her face.

It was already past midnight and the hallways were dark. The candles had melted away; everyone had long since returned to their rooms. That is, except her and Malfoy.

The two of them had sat next to each other again, and once the last students had left the Great Hall, they struck up a casual conversation. He told her about his family and the life at Malfoy Manor, and in return she shared some stories from her childhood. Contrary to her expectations, he seemed genuinely intrigued; he even asked her about various Muggle gimmicks. (Hermione found it a bit challenging to explain what a washing machine is.) Time passed by unnoticed by either of them; they learned a lot about one another and – above all – that they enjoyed each other's company.

During the whole evening, not a single word was uttered regarding the Vanishing Cabinets, the Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort. They simply relished in the fleeting calm before the storm that they knew would strike soon.

The only people witnessing their moment of closeness were the handful of teachers that indulged in a glass of brandy after dinner. Hermione didn't notice the satisfied look Professor Dumbledore was observing them with. Even if she had seen it, she would not be able to account for it.

Eventually, even the teachers left the Great Hall. It wasn't long until the two students realised how late it was already - they'd get into trouble if they lingered in there any longer. It wouldn't be long before Mrs. Norris or Filch himself barged in and found them; somehow they knew he wouldn't be thrilled to see them.

They parted at the door; she headed up towards the Gryffindor Common Room and he – down to the dungeons.

When she reached the bedroom several minutes later, Hermione spotted a piece of parchment on her bed cover. Arching her eyebrow, she took and opened it. A frown settled on her face while she read the short note – it was an invitation to the Slug Club Christmas party, which would be held tomorrow evening.

_Wonderful,_ the girl thought. The promise of a boring night in Slughorn's self-satisfied company didn't tempt her at all. Yet she knew she had no choice but to go – otherwise the Professor would never let her hear the end of it.

x-x-x

On the following evening, Hermione left the Common Room with a pained expression that didn't match her dapper look. She'd tied her hair up in a simple braid and was wearing one of the couple of dresses that she owned (the other being the dress she'd bought for the New Year's Eve Dance tomorrow). It was a rich purple, with an intricate lace pattern on the chest. It had a bateau neckline and off-shoulder straps; its flowing skirt reached her knees. She had put a cloak over it – partly because of the temperature, partly because she didn't want to attract attention.

She promised herself to make an appearance and leave as soon as an opportunity to do so presented itself. There wouldn't be anyone there to make her stay worthwhile – even Harry, her only glimmer of hope on the previous Slug Club meetings, was now hundreds of miles away.

She had entertained the idea of inviting Malfoy as her "plus one", but dismissed it quickly. She didn't want him to have to endure the same boredom - or that's what she told herself. In reality, she was afraid of asking him – afraid he'd refuse. She ended up not seeing him the whole day, which put an end to this internal struggle of hers. She promptly chose to forget about it.

x-x-x

She didn't run into anyone on her trip to the Sixth floor, where Slughorn's office was. That part of the castle seemed deserted. It was only when she neared the door that she spotted someone else.

Draco Malfoy was pacing to and fro at the other end of the hallway; he seemed to be waiting for something. Puzzled, Hermione veered away from the door and walked to him.

When he saw her, relief washed over his features. He closed the distance between them and stopped in front of her. Only now did she notice that he was also dressed up. He was clad in an elegant suit, not black, but a deep grey with thin stripes. Underneath he wore a black shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it. "Hi," he said sheepishly.

Hermione crossed her arms, looking up at him. She suddenly felt self-conscious; she barely resisted the urge to wrap her cloak tighter around herself. "Hey yourself. What are you doing here? Going to Slughorn's party too?"

He shook his head. "I'm not a member of the Club, remember? After all, I'm too lowly to be included in Slughorn's list."

She chuckled and he added in a serious tone, "No, I actually intended to come as Zabini's guest, but… someone else got there first." He gave her a crooked smile.

Hermione giggled. "Poor Luna. She doesn't know what she's in for."

He raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you won't take me to the party as a guest?"

The girl found it hard to conceal her surprise. A blush spread on her cheeks. Still, she managed to keep her tone light and playful when she asked, "Are you really so keen on rubbing shoulders with Hogwarts' high life?"

"… You shouldn't let this get to your head, Granger. You're getting haughty." His lips twitched upwards.

She gasped incredulously. "You're one to talk!"

The Slytherin ignored her remark and offered her his hand. "Shall we?"

After a moment's hesitation, she took his arm.

x-x-x

Arm in arm, they stepped into the room.

A gust of warm air carrying the smell of tobacco and baked meat greeted them. Draperies in different colours hung from the ceiling and covered the walls, making you feel as if you were in a tent and hiding the farther corners from view. A single tall lamp spread its red light through the room; an invisible choir's singing drowned the hushed voices of the guests.

Malfoy let go of Hermione's arm and helped her take her cloak off. She clutched her hands tightly in front of herself, feeling exposed. Thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed their entry yet. She looked around, looking for familiar faces, but saw none.

Meanwhile, the boy had handed her cloak to a House Elf that scurried away with it. He turned around to where Granger was waiting for him. His heart sped up when he took in her appearance. The colour of her dress enhanced the pink undertones of her skin; he hadn't realised before how thick and sleek her hair was.

It made him want to run his fingers through it.

He frowned and shook the thought away, walking towards her. When he placed his hand on the small of her back, she started in surprise. "Come on," he whispered close to her ear and pushed her forward to the centre of the room.

Without looking at him, she nodded.

As they walked into the room, more and more people turned to look at them. The ones who recognised them exchanged confused glances and started whispering amongst each other.

Hermione, conscious of the stares, fastened her eyes on the floor. Her knees felt a bit shaky. Aware of her uneasiness, her companion guided her towards a small empty table in one of the corners of the room where they wouldn't be so exposed to everyone's curiosity.

They'd almost reached it when Slughorn's chubby form appeared before their eyes. "Miss Granger! And Mister Malfoy, too!" He was all smiles. If he'd been surprised to see them together, he didn't show it. "I'm honoured you managed to make it to my small assembly. I flatter myself at the thought that it is a prelude to the Ball tomorrow. I'm sure you will attend? After all, young people love dances, don't you? In any case, I hope you are going to enjoy yourself."

Hermione nodded with a tight smile.

Draco let go of her – albeit reluctantly – and, leaning close to her, whispered, "I'll go get us something to drink."

She looked up at him, nodding ever so slightly. Draco inhaled a whiff of her perfume.

Caught off-guard by her eyes, he hurried away. If this kept up, he might do something stupid.

Hermione was left alone in Slughorn's company. The latter eyed her in curiosity. "Do excuse me for prying, but I had not realised you and Mr. Malfoy were so… close. I mean, I am all for promoting unity between different Houses, but…"

The girl chuckled, shaking her head. "I can assure you it's not what it looks like, Professor."

_What does it look like, though?_ the girl asked herself. The answer made her cheeks redden.

Whatever answer the Professor had, he was interrupted by the abrupt appearance of another student.

Cormac McLaggen had somehow materialised next to her and his sudden proximity made her stumble back. "Cormac," Hermione exclaimed with as much cheerfulness as she could muster.

The Seventh year boy looked her over with his green eyes. He appeared to like what he saw, because a smug smile spread on his face. "Evening, Granger," he drawled. "Looking good tonight."

"Thank you." Hermione tried to discreetly check if Malfoy was returning, but there was no sign of him. Slughorn, too, had abandoned her and joined a nearby group of wizards.

"Say," McLaggen took a step towards her and she backed off just as swiftly, "Is it true that you brought Malfoy to the party?" He let out a bark of laughter with a condescending expression. "I mean, if you were so desperate for a partner, you could just have asked me."

Hermione's temper flared. "I'd rather go by myself than with you," she snapped at him.

That threw him for a loop. His brows shot up and he stuttered, "C-come again?"

Just then, someone laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Draco's voice came from behind her, "Am I interrupting you?"

She shook her head, looking pointedly at McLaggen. "No," she said, "Cormac here was just leaving."

All traces of chivalry gone, he gave her a nasty look. Pointing at Malfoy, he hissed, "I will remember this." Then he stormed off.

Letting go of her shoulder, Malfoy handed her a glass of mead. "What a moron," he sneered, "He probably doesn't remember what he had for breakfast."

Hermione took a sip of her drink. "You can say that again."

"Though he was right," the boy added as an afterthought, "You don't look too bad, Granger."

"If this is an attempt to pay me a compliment, Malfoy, you should try har—Wait, you were _there the whole time?"_

He smirked at her over the rim of his own glass, saying nothing. Hermione rolled her eyes. Just as she was opening her mouth to say something, a flurry of robes knocked her aside and pounced upon the blonde boy.

His eyes widened in surprise; some of his drink spilled out of his glass and soaked into the thick carpet. "Draco!" a shrill voice cooed, making Hermione want to press her hands to her ears.

Draco frowned and tried to disentangle himself from Pansy Parkinson's tight grip. Yet, she clung onto him with no apparent intention of letting go.

"Pansy," he groaned, "what on Earth are you doing here?"

She took a step back to look up at him. "One of the Carrow twins – don't ask me which one, I never learned to tell them apart – was sick, so I took her place!" she chirped. "Now let's go dance!" she grabbed him by the hand with a giggle.

The Slytherin girl pretended not to notice Hermione, who just stood there as Malfoy was slowly dragged off. She was stunned into speechlessness, half-expecting him to do something about it.

Yet he only gave her an apologetic look and opened his mouth to say something, but Parkinson's excited chatter killed his voice.

A deep scowl plastered on Hermione's face. Anger started to brew inside her and she glared at the drink in her hands. Ripples ran over the mead's surface – her hands trembled.

At some point, Luna found her, but Hermione was so preoccupied with throwing murderous looks at Malfoy's back that later she couldn't recall what they talked about. Her replies were automatic, but it seemed they satisfied her friend, as after a while she left her alone.

Once or twice, the Slytherin boy caught her eyes from the other end of the room. She ignored his questioning look, only scowling at him before she downed the remainder of the mead in one gulp.

Just then, the song ended and Malfoy chose to come back. His cheeks were slightly rosy; he was out of breath. He stopped and propped himself on the small table next to Hermione. "Hello," he began, a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Hermione eyed him coldly.

"Look," he started again, but she raised her hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Hope you enjoy the rest of the party," she said.

She whirled on her heel and made for the exit. She had to muster all the composure that she had left to appear calm and not break into a run. A girl eyed her curiously; Hermione gave her a forced smile, hoping her anger wouldn't shine through.

She'd caused enough of a furore for tonight.

She retrieved her cloak and walked out of the room. Before she'd managed to make more than a couple of steps, the door behind her burst open. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Malfoy.

Hermione picked up her pace.

"Granger!" He kept his voice low, but it was brimming with anger. She pretended not to hear and marched on.

His rushed footsteps echoed in the hallway and he grabbed her wrist. Hermione skidded to a halt.

"Yes?" She chose to look at his hand clutching hers – looking him in the eye would make her determination to be mad at him falter.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, please, spare me!"

"What was I supposed to do? It was just a dance, for goodness' sake!"

"You don't need to explain yourself," she spat through clenched teeth. "You made it clear enough. Go back to your obsessive girlfriend, Malfoy."

"She's not my—"

"I don't want to talk about that." She jerked her hand free and he let her go.

She stormed down the hallway without looking back. Tears stung her eyes, welled up, spilled. They rolled in salty rivers down her cheeks – angry tears. Anger at Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, but most of all, at herself. A part of her knew she was blowing the issue out of proportion, but she couldn't help it.

She was jealous.

x-x-x

Draco stood in the hallway long after Granger had disappeared around the corner, incredulously staring in the direction she'd stomped off in.

Heaving a sigh, he bumped his head in the nearby wall. So much for having an enjoyable evening; all his hopes had been razed to the ground for reasons that remained a mystery for him. He shook his head and went back in to take his cloak.

He didn't feel like partying anymore.


	18. Alone & Easy Target

**A/N: A head's up: chapters 1 to 5 have now been edited. There are no significant changes, except at the beginning of ch. 1 and around the middle of ch. 5. I hope you'll check them out! (Plus, they're kinda important.) **

**I also changed ch. 17 a bit (don't kill me). Thanks to NightWhisper184, I realised what annoyed me in it, so there are a couple of major edits at its end. I think it seems less melodramatic now, but after all you're the judges! I'm eager to hear what you think about the changes (and the new chapter, of course).**

**So, without further ado, enjoy!**

**x-x-x**

By the time she reached the Gryffindor Tower, Hermione's anger was replaced by embarrassment. Remembering the tantrum she had just thrown made her cheeks burn. The thought of returning and apologising crossed her mind, but it seemed like a sure way to make an even bigger fool of herself. Instead, she remained in her bedroom and focused on calming down.

However, she was restless and unable to stand still. She got ready for bed with almost painstaking precision, performing each mundane task as if her life depended on it in hopes that it would divert her from her thoughts. Yet, even after she crawled into her bed, her eyes remained wide open. It was hours later that her hyperactive brain finally relented and she drifted off.

Not a lot of time had passed before the nightmare assaulted her.

x-x-x

Her own cry woke her up. She sat straight and her unfocused eyes blinked against the darkness. Pieces of the dream imprinted themselves in her mind – the duel in the Room of Requirement, the flashing lights, the curse, Malfoy's body collapsing on the ground.

She dried the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her pyjama, grateful that she was currently alone in the girls' bedroom. She would have a lot of explaining to do otherwise.

Slowly, her racing heart slowed down. Her breathing returned to normal and she fell back onto her pillow. For a long time, she lied, eyes wide open, scenes from the dream refusing to leave her mind. It was a wake-up call – a reminder that their problems were nowhere near solved.

There was still a long way to go.

x-x-x

On the next morning, the sun rose over a melancholy world. The sky was a leaden grey, the pale orb of the sun nothing but a faint circle shrouded in clouds. Hogwarts's dark figure stood out in the dull light – a black silhouette in stark contrast with the surrounding snow. Icicles hung from the cornices and threatened to fall at the first gust of wind.

However, the seemingly hostile castle was warm and beautifully decorated on the inside. The brightly-coloured Christmas ornaments had disappeared during the night and were now replaced by elegant and sophisticated crystal ones that left the impression of sculptured ice. The only thing that didn't change was the mistletoe branches; in fact, they seemed to have multiplied and now hung over almost every doorframe.

In the GryffindorTower, Hermione was lying in bed, staring at the velvet canopy above her head. An invisible hammer beat a constant tattoo in her head and her body felt heavy, but she was calm. Even if she remembered glimpses of the nightmare, the horror had largely worn off. Yet, a feeling lingered: she needed to do something, to solve the mystery of the dreams – and she was running out of options.

She was getting desperate.

A realisation struck her and she jolted to a sitting position. Rubbing her chin, she looked at her suitcase. The flask of Felix Felicis was still there, buried between her clothes. If she used it…

She slipped out of bed and walked towards the suitcase. In no time, the little round-bottom flask was in her hand; the liquid shimmered within like molten gold. Hermione chewed on her lip. The more she thought about it, the more logical it seemed until she became certain – she had to try.

She uncorked the tiny bottle and sniffed at the potion. The sweet flowery smell that tickled her nose was enough to daze her, but she raised the flask to her lips.

She took a long gulp.

x-x-x

The flavour was even more powerful than the scent. It slid down her throat, leaving a trail of heat that spread through her whole body. When it reached her fingertips, she knew she could do anything. She felt confident, powerful; the insecurity had disappeared without a trace.

She carefully corked the flask, which was now half empty, and tucked it inside her suitcase again. As if a curtain was lifted, now it was clear to her what she should do.

She had to sneak into the Restricted Section in the library. Her gut feeling (or rather, the Liquid Luck that flowed in her blood) told her she would find the information she needed there. The fact that she needed a teacher's permission didn't bother her in the slightest.

Taking her time, she got dressed for breakfast and left the room.

x-x-x

During the day, nothing that advanced Hermione's plans happened. Still, she knew she needed not worry. Felix Felicis told her to wait, and she waited.

When the time for dinner came, she knew it was her cue to act.

She took a longer way to the Great Hall. In her robe's pocket, a piece of parchment was carefully folded. It contained a request to enter the Restricted Section – it only needed a teacher's signature to validate it. And it was a matter of time for Hermione to obtain one.

She turned around a corner and saw a figure at the opposite end of the hallway. She sped up and soon was able to recognise Sybil Trelawney's colourful silhouette wrapped in a multitude of shawls.

"Professor!" the girl cried out. The Divination teacher stopped and turned around in a whirl of flowing fabrics. Her eyes locked at the girl before her through her thick glasses. Hermione noticed her look was a bit unfocused.

A wide grin plastered on the girl's face. "Good evening, Professor Trelawney!"

"Uh, well, yes…" The woman attempted to fix the long blue scarf around her neck. When she opened her mouth, the smell of brandy filled the air. "Miss Grayson, was it?"

"Granger." Her smile didn't falter. "Professor, can I ask you something?"

The Professor hiccupped. "Of course, child."

Hermione looked down, pretending to collect her thoughts. "Well," she began, "do you happen to know anything about… shared dreams? I mean, since you teach Divination, you have surely come across something of the sort…?"

The woman's already huge eyes widened even more. "Sha—shared dreams?"

"Yes." Hermione pressed on, "I mean, you know so much about your subject, you must have heard something. Or read it in a book, maybe?" She hoped the Professor was too drunk to notice her blatant praise.

To her relief, she seemed to have taken the compliment at face value. Red blots appeared on her face and she pushed her glasses up her nose. "Yes, I believe I have—" she hiccupped again "—I have read something about this, a long time ago. In a book."

Hermione wondered if the specification really was necessary, but then she remembered that she was talking to a prophet. The Professor was probably used to reading on bird intestines. "And is this book perchance in the Restricted Section in the library?" she suggested.

"Yes, I believe it may be," Trelawney nodded solemnly.

Not without difficulty, he girl suppressed her triumph. _Just one more step,_ she thought. "I really, really want to read it!" She clasped her hands together, but then pretended to remember something and frowned. "But… Students aren't allowed to enter the Restricted Section without a teacher's permission." After a second's silence, she added in a crestfallen tone, "What a pity."

"Well…" the woman fiddled with one of the heavy metal bracelets she wore. "Since you seem so interested in this subject, I could… I mean, I wouldn't mind giving you my permission."

"You would? Oh, thank you so much!" In a heartbeat, the parchment was in Hermione's hands and she was offering the Professor a quill.

With an unstable hand, Trelawney placed a messy signature in the bottom corner. "There," she said and burped.

Hermione wrinkled her nose before putting the permission back into her pocket. Meanwhile, the teacher excused herself and wobbled down the hallway, leaving a cloud of alcohol fumes in her wake.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed once she was out of earshot. She couldn't believe her luck – the Professor had fallen for her cheap trick and transparent acting. And she was too drunk to notice she never mentioned the book she was supposedly looking for.

The girl reminded herself that she didn't know what book she was looking for, either. _Here's hoping Felix does,_ she thought, smiling smugly.

With a bounce in her step, she headed to the Library.

x-x-x

Hermione's worries that Madam Pince would have closed the library proved needless. Her luck still hadn't betrayed her; when she opened the door, a contented smile spread on her face. She saw the librarian sitting behind her desk, reading a book, and strolled towards her.

Madam Pince didn't look up to her immediately. Just when Hermione wondered how to attract the woman's attention, she put the book aside and locked her brown eyes on the girl. "Yes? Can I help you?" Her voice was cold; she clearly didn't enjoy being interrupted while reading – a feeling Hermione could relate to.

The girl shuffled under the stern gaze. "U-um," she mumbled, "here." She took the parchment out of her pocket and handed it to the woman. Doubt filled her – she was suddenly positive that her small contrivance was going to fail.

While Madam Pince read the permission, her lips set into a tight line. Hermione's stomach clenched; that didn't bode well. The librarian turned the parchment around, then held it against the light. All too clear, a picture popped into Hermione's head: she remembered how the librarian had inspected the parchment in exactly the same way in their Second Year when they had tried to obtain the book _Moste Potente Potions._ She still found it hard to believe they had managed to pull _that_ off.

But then again, if it worked once, why wouldn't it work again?

Madam Pince heaved a sigh and stored the parchment in one of the drawers of her desk. "Very well," she turned towards Hermione, "what book are you looking for?"

"Uh…" The girl weighed her options. She didn't want any more people to learn about the dreams - Professor Trelawney was already one person too much. And unlike the Divination teacher, Madam Pince wasn't nearly as drunk as not to have a recollection of her story. "I will know it when I see it?" Hermione offered.

For a moment, she thought the librarian would lash out. Then she relaxed and nodded. "As you wish. But be quick, I don't intend to wait for you the whole night." She sighed again and was about to pick up her book when she looked at Hermione again. "Oh, and bear in mind that the leftmost book on the third shelf bites."

Absently, Hermione nodded. She almost ran towards the Restricted Section, a triumphant cry threatening to escape her lips.

x-x-x

The sheer amount of books in there was enough to sober her down. She had a couple of hours to sift through all of them and no clue where to start from.

Getting in was the easy part, she realised, and the real challenge now presented itself.

Hermione carefully avoided the biting book and the one next to it that looked like it had previously been stored in a slaughterhouse and started searching.

x-x-x

After nearly an hour of taking books off the shelves, Hermione started to understand why this section was restricted. One of the hefty tomes had tried to squash her fingers between its pages; another one had jumped out of her hands and hit her straight in the face. It then proceeded to smother her and Hermione had to use her whole strength to pull it off her face. Another one squirted ink into her eyes. She had managed to rub most of it off, but her skin still itched. Blood trickled from her eyebrow where the aggressive book's corner had cleft the skin.

As a result, she was _extremely_ pissed off.

"Argh, that's absurd!" she exclaimed and shoved a book back into its place. She collapsed on the ground, groaning when she hit her back in the edge of the nearby table. Felix Felicis' effect had certainly faded by now; Madam Pince would probably kick her out soon, or worse – discover her hoax and give her detention.

That had been such a bad idea.

"It's a bit harder than you thought, isn't it?"

The voice almost made her jump out of her skin. She looked up to where it came from and all of a sudden, she felt her insides turn to ice.

Albus Dumbledore stood near the aisle, observing her through his crescent-shaped glasses.


	19. Half the Truth

**A/N: Chapter 7 now updated; small plot hole fixed!**

**x-x-x**

"Pro—Professor Dumbledore," Hermione stammered. She hastily pulled up to her feet, looking at the man in horror.

"Miss Granger." His eyes flickered in silent amusement while he walked past her to the table and sat down on one of the chairs. "Would you care for a seat, please?" He waved his wand and the second chair slid back silently.

With her knees trembling, Hermione let herself fall onto the chair. "Sir, I…" she tried, but she didn't know how to continue. She was in so much trouble that even the truth wouldn't get her out of. Possibilities flew through her head, but before she could opt for one, the Headmaster raised his hand in a casual gesture.

"I think you will be relieved to hear that no explanation would be necessary, Miss Granger."

She furrowed her brow. "What do you mean, sir?"

"That I already know a fair part of the story and have more than a few educated guesses about the rest." Seeing her horrified expression, he added with a smile, "I can assure you that you aren't in any sort of trouble because of your actions. To be honest, I wouldn't have expected any less from you."

Hermione afforded a relieved sigh, but then thought of something. Her face fell. "Do my actions include feigning a permission to enter this section?" She had already been caught red-handed, it seemed futile to try and conceal it.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed! Though I would suggest that you don't spread this bit of information too much, Madam Pince wouldn't appreciate the whole school's swarming in here." He made a thoughtful pause. "As an aside, excellent use of the Felix Felicis. I hope you haven't used the whole flask…? One never knows when these things can come in handy." He shot her a look far more serious than his light-hearted tone.

She shook her head zealously. "Of course not, Professor!"

Dumbledore nodded and leaned back in his seat. His gaze travelled over the bookshelves. Absently, he stroked his beard.

In the silence that ensued, Hermione took a more careful look at the Headmaster. He struck her as tired; his skin bore an unhealthy grey colour. The pronounced bags under his eyes gave his otherwise serene face an impression of sickness.

When it became obvious that Dumbledore was not going to speak, Hermione mustered up her courage. "Professor?" The man inclined his head to show her she had his attention. "Sir, I was wondering... You said you knew what was going on?"

"You are asking yourself why I haven't done anything about it." It wasn't a question, but a statement, so Hermione just waited for him to continue. To her surprise, he gave her a mysterious smile. "What makes you think that I haven't?"

In a tone as easy as if he were talking about what he had for breakfast, he added, "On a related note, I reckon you wanted to search for a book concerning a peculiar type of dreams?"

"I—yes." Hermione's mouth went dry. "But how…?"

He chose to ignore her question. "Well, I think you will be delighted to learn that you were right, you are looking for it at the right place… However," his beard moved when he smiled, though his eyes remained serious. "I regret to inform you that said book is currently unavailable, as it is lying on the desk in my office."

Hermione's eyebrows shot upwards in confusion. She needed a few seconds for the information to sink in, and then her lips formed a surprised _o. _But before she could utter a sound, Dumbledore took out a golden watch out of his pocket. "It's getting late," he stated and stood up with a sigh. "I suggest that you go have dinner while there is still dinner to be had."

"Um, yes, sir." Reluctantly, she stood up and followed him towards the exit. There were at least a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue, but she held them back. The Professor had made it clear that he wouldn't say anything more.

Madam Pince shot her a perplexed look when she saw her walk behind the Headmaster. Dumbledore stopped next to her desk and looked at Hermione. "Miss Granger, if you – or any friend of yours – have something to tell me, feel free to come to my office." His startlingly blue eyes seemed to bore through her, but then a kind smile spread on his face. "Until then, take care of yourself."

Hermione mumbled a reply and left him talk to the librarian, letting her wobbly legs carry her out of the room.

x-x-x

The way back into the Gryffindor Tower was a blur. She didn't stop until she had reached her bedroom and plopped down on the bed. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest and the muscles of her legs ached. She hadn't realised she was running.

Dumbledore was behind her and Malfoy's shared dreams.

He knew – or at least suspected – that the Slytherin was scheming something, although he was not aware of the details. Hermione had no doubt that he would have intervened otherwise. However, he had chosen her to do something and she had yet to figure out what exactly that was. If the Headmaster's words were anything to go by, she was on the right track.

Even so, a question remained: why her?

x-x-x

"Drakey!" Pansy Parkinson cooed.

The shrill voice was enough to wake Draco up. He raised his head off the table in the Great Hall and eyed the brunette, who was sitting next to him. "Don't ever call me that," he groaned and yawned.

"I was wondering where you'd got off to." His voice sounded less sugary now, and more genuine. "You weren't in the Common Room."

"How observant of you." Draco rubbed his cheek, where the hard wooden surface had left his skin feeling sore. "What time is it?"

"Somewhere around 11 pm, I believe."

He groaned again. Falling asleep on a table was a new low for him. Thankfully, except for him and Pansy, the hall was deserted; he hoped no one had witnessed his humiliation.

A thought hit him: what if he had been drooling?

Trying to appear nonchalant, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Did you want something?"

He looked towards the girl and saw her observing him with unusual intensity. This side of Pansy was unnerving – it reminded him she was by far less stupid than she usually pretended to be.

"It's about her, isn't it? The Mudblood?"

"Don't call her that!" he snapped, then instantly regretted it.

He could see his own surprise reflected on Pansy's face. Then she grimaced – not the typical pretentious pout, but a thoughtful scowl. Eventually, she nodded. "You have been waiting for her, haven't you?"

"This is none of your business, Pansy." He stood up and headed to the door. He threw her a glance over his shoulder. "Coming?"

Instead of answering him, she tilted her head. "Why?"

He instantly knew what she meant. A thousand possible answers flooded his mind: because of the dreams, because of the way Granger wanted to help him and how that made him doubt himself and his beliefs, because of the warmth that rushed through his body him every time he saw her.

He just shrugged and spun on his heel.

If he had seen the expression his action evoked to Pansy's face, he wouldn't have walked away so calmly.

**x-x-x**

**I feel the end is a bit weak, but it will have to make do - at least until I decide to edit again. In the next chapter, the New Year's Eve Dance shall begin! Are you excited? I sure am - that's a part I've wanted to write literally for years. Here's hoping it will be as good as to compensate for the huge delay!**

**In other news, today I posted a Dramione one-shot, ****_Would You Rather?._**** I'm quite proud of it, so I'd be delighted if you checked it out while you wait for the next chapter of this story! **

**Reviews are, as always, welcome. Thanks for reading and have a great day!**


	20. Last Night on Earth

The day of the New Year's Eve Ball arrived with no fanfare other than the excited buzzing of the students. Yet, even it seemed hushed, as if being loud would ruin the enchanted atmosphere that reigned in the castle. The corridors, glittering with pale ornaments, were empty; in the Common Rooms, the few students talked in muffled voices.

Hermione was as full of anticipation as her classmates. Every time she thought about the dance, she grinned in delight. As it wasn't as formal as the Yule Ball, a lot of the stress associated with preparation was gone; they didn't even need to invite their partners beforehand, which meant there would be a certain spontaneity to the affair.

The girl decided a distraction was in order - she was starting to feel too much like the air-headed girls in her Year, She tried to study, to write the Charms essay that was due January the 2nd - the first day after the break – but she had barely concluded the introduction when a thought sprang into existence at the back of her mind. Would Malfoy invite her to dance with him?

The girl couldn't suppress an annoyed sigh – she caught herself thinking of the Slytherin so often that she was starting to worry it would make her grades plummet. She frowned. If that happened, she would make him pay.

Although the thought of Malfoy holding her close might be worth a couple of "Exceeds Expectations", or maybe even an "Acceptable"…

The Charms textbook soon remained forgotten on the table, the girl's thoughts drifting in another, less pleasant direction. Did she have to tell Malfoy about her conversation with Dumbledore? Hermione chewed on her lip.

While the Headmaster hadn't instructed her to keep quiet, he also hadn't given her permission to talk to anyone about it - especially Malfoy, who was the most closely concerned. She realised disclosing such information could spell the end of Dumbledore's schemes. And even if she couldn't say she understood him, she trusted the Professor.

Yet, lying to Malfoy felt wrong. He had the right to know what was going on as much as her. After he'd confided in her, being secretive with him was unfair; what's more, it betrayed his trust. And Hermione didn't want to hurt him.

She groaned and smacked her head with her Charms book. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked the leather-bound tome.

For once, the book provided no answer.

x-x-x

Hermione didn't miraculously come up with a solution to her mental dilemma, but by sunset her anxiousness was once again replaced by excitement - it was time for her to get dressed for the dance.

As soon as she took her dress out of the suitcase, her stomach clenched. Yet, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. The delicate fabric slid between her fingers and she smiled – how much she had waited for a chance to wear this dress! She discarded her robes and proceeded to put it on.

x-x-x

"You ready, mate?" Zabini asked while he fixed his tie. "It's time."

Draco nodded, then realised his friend couldn't see him, and muttered an affirmative. He finished tying his shoelaces, ignoring the feeling that his insides had tied in a nervous knot.

"Draco?"

He turned to look at Blaise. The boy stood next to the mirror, a picture of elegance with his black tailored suit, the lilac shirt and matching tie and his shoes – as polished as could be. His friend returned the look with a mixture of amusement and confusion. "I asked if you were ready," Zabini said.

"Oh." Draco neared the mirror for a last critical look. His own attire was flawless – black suit, black shirt and shoes. He'd left the shirt unbuttoned around the neck and the leather strap of his dragon pendant could be seen in the folds of his clothes. His hair fell loosely around his face, the tips brushing his collar. He had decided to not to sleek it down as he usually did, because it looked too formal.

And, frankly, he could use a change.

Ever so carefully, he stuck a single red rose in the front pocket of his suit – a playful splash of colour in contrast with the rest of the outfit. "Yes," he nodded again, "I'm ready."

He checked if the small pouch was safe in his jacket's pocket and then joined Zabini out of the room.

x-x-x

The hallways were empty – Draco suspected everyone was already in the Great Hall. He hadn't expected it would take him so long to get ready – and the annoyance that radiated from Blaise told him his friend hadn't, either. He wanted to apologise, but dismissed the idea. Just as with Pansy the night before, he wasn't keen on the idea of letting Zabini know what he felt. Instead, he started walking faster.

When the two boys neared the hall, a gust of warm air greeted them. It carried a playful jazz song – fast and charged with energy, the type of music that made you start dancing.

And Draco intended to do just that.

The Great Hall looked like an ice castle. Tablecloths of glittering silk covered the long table in front of the east wall. The fabric reflected the light of the myriad of tall pearly-white candles, leaving you with the impression of polished ice. Tall cushioned chairs had replaced the usual benches.

The most breath-taking part of the decoration, however, was the walls. Layers of ice covered every even surface – ice so smooth and glossy that it looked like a mirror. The reflections created an illusion of an even more impressive size, and the flickering candlelight adopted a cool blue hue.

Blaise turned to him as soon as they crossed the threshold. Draco knew he was trying to remain unfazed by the magnificence that was the Great Hall, but his eyes seemed to be wider than usual.

"I'm going to get something to drink." He glanced towards the far end of the room. Draco didn't have to look to know he would see a certain pale-haired Ravenclaw girl there.

"Is that how they call it now?" he teased.

Quite unlike his usual self, Blaise only grunted in reply. Without another word, he headed in the direction of his lady for the night.

It was a relief to know he wasn't the only one to act odd tonight, Draco mused.

Left by himself now, he decided to look for his own lady-to-be.

x-x-x

Once he had taken in the decoration, Draco directed his attention to the people. Most of them were still close to the table or around the tall round tables placed close to the walls, huddled in small groups.

The dance floor, which occupied the ideal centre of the room, was empty except for the small platform in the corner, where the band was. They had just finished their song, and after the polite applause of the students, the vocalist said, "Thank you, everyone!" His voice was deep and husky, with a thick Scottish accent. While he spoke, he loosened his blood-red tie – the only colour in his otherwise white attire. "We, _The Vampire Vagabonds,_ are thrilled to be here tonight! It's time to rock 'n roll!"

The cheering of the crowd drowned the intro of the next song.

Draco walked past a couple of Hufflepuffs in matching violet dresses, once again on the lookout for Granger.

When he finally spotted her, his breath hitched in his throat.

She stood next to one of the small tables on the opposite side of the room. Her dress was a deep red, strapless and with a sweetheart neckline that dipped low enough to be playful without being indecent. The corset emphasised Granger's slim waist while the skirt was flowing and reached the floor.

Wasting no time, Draco crossed the room towards her. The closer he got, the more the girl's appearance stunned him. He noticed the intricate lace on her corset, the locks of hair that fell from her loose bun and curled around her neck, the delicate golden bracelet on her right arm.

When she saw him, a warm smile bloomed on her face. Her makeup was light: gold eyeshadow that framed her eyes, making them look even brighter than usual, and lipgloss.

Her full, rosy lips moved. It took him a while to realise she'd spoken. "Good evening," he said, hoping she hadn't said something else. The way her smile widened let him know his answer had been appropriate.

He reached the table and leaned on it, suddenly unstable on his feet. "You look wonderful," he told her.

"Thank you," she inclined her head a bit. "You don't look half bad, either."

Her voice was calm, but her eyes refused to leave the tablecloth and her cheeks bore a telltale blush.

She felt just as uneasy as him. This revelation was what Draco needed to pull himself together.

He took a step closer to her with a lopsided smile. "Please, if today I make another faux pas, be as nice as to let me know. I'm not going to let you storm off on me like yesterday."

"Oh?" Her eyebrow shot up. "And what would you do to stop me?"

His smile grew into a full-blown grin. "Now, telling you would ruin the fun, wouldn't it?"

"You're incorrigible!" She shook her head and the sweet flowery scent of her perfume teased his senses. In an attempt to prevent himself from reaching over and wrapping his arms around her, he pressed his hands together.

"Am I forgiven, though?" He kept his tone easy, but his look was earnest.

She twirled a lock of hair between her fingers. "Hmm… Depends."

"On?"

"Well…" Now she was doing it on purpose; he knew her well enough to notice the mischievous glint in her eyes.

Perhaps she noticed his frown, because she chuckled. "Maybe if you go and get me something to drink… I'll think about it."

"Your wish is my command, milady." With a flourish, he took her hand and grazed her knuckles with his lips. A trail of goosebumps appeared on her arm.

He held her hand just a second longer than etiquette demanded before letting go and strolling to where drinks were served.

He hadn't made more than five steps, though, before he glanced back at the brunette. It pleased him to see her looking at him. He winked.

x-x-x

When he returned some ten minutes later, it was a relief to see Granger wait for him. Once again, her whole face lightened up with her smile. Draco couldn't help but grin in turn.

He knew there were people who observed them; he could virtually hear the whispers behind his back. Yet, tonight it didn't matter.

Without saying anything, he handed her her glass. She raised it with a small smile and they clunk them together.

They sat in silence, sipping their drinks. At a point, Draco realised the music had stopped and threw a curious glance at _The Vampire Vagabonds_. As if to answer his question, they resumed playing.

This time, however, the music was louder, a wordless cue for everyone to start dancing. In a matter of seconds, the first couples emerged on the dance floor. Their faces wore identical expressions – part nervousness, part excitement.

Draco looked away from them and to his own lovely companion. She pretended to look at the dancing couples, but he knew she was aware of his eyes on her. He stepped closer to her.

"What a nice song," he observed.

"Indeed."

"And everyone's dancing," he tried again.

"They are." She struggled to keep a straight face.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Granger… You're not making this easy for me."

This time, she couldn't contain her smirk. "Why should I? If you want to say something, just say it."

"Fine," he raised his hands in exasperation. He stepped even closer to him, bowed his head and asked, "Will you please do me the honour of dancing with me?"

In this pose, he couldn't see her face, but a couple of seconds later she placed her hand in his. "Lead the way, Malfoy."

She let him take her to the dance floor. Just as he turned to face her, the song ended and another one began. It was a waltz, but dynamic enough not to require too much intimacy. With a light tug on her hand, Draco pulled his partner closer and placed his hand on the small of her back. Her muscles tensed for a moment before she relaxed and put her hand on his shoulder.

The tension in the space between the two of them was palpable. Yet, when they began dancing, it was a matter of seconds to fall into step with each other. Granger's moves were graceful and light and she followed his lead so naturally that it felt like they'd done it countless times before.

"Not bad, Malfoy," she raised her brow with a sly smile.

"If this is an attempt to pay me a compliment, Granger, you should try harder," the boy mimicked her.

Her quiet laugh suddenly reduced their uneasiness. Draco twirled her around and when she returned into his arms, he used the chance to pull her a little closer.

"People are staring," she told him, another blush spreading on her cheeks. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

"Well, we dance better than most of the other couples combined."

She clicked her tongue. "Modest as ever, Malfoy."

"I'm just stating the obvious." He gave her a cheeky smile.

x-x-x

When Granger leaned her head on his chest, Draco felt his stomach clench. He could only hope she didn't hear his racing heart – the effect she had on him was astonishing.

The combination of nervousness and elation overwhelmed him again. He pulled her closer; his cheek came to rest against her temple. Humming under his breath, he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair.

For the longest time, neither of them said anything. They had even forgotten to dance, only swaying in place to the rhythm of the ballad that floated through the air. The gentle sound let them tune everyone and everything else out – for this one moment, it was only the two of them.

And it felt right.

"Let's go out," Draco said eventually.

Hermione lifted her head to look at him. "Out where?"

"Just… Out." He shrugged. "I think I could use a bit of fresh air."

A second of consideration later, she nodded, "Sure."

x-x-x

The light of the Great Hall seeped through the double doors into to Entrance Hall. Other than that, it was empty and dark. Their footsteps sounded unusually loud as they made their way to the entrance.

Outside, the moon shone upon the frozen land, creating a miracle of glistening snow and ice. The only sound to reach their ears was the faint music from the hall, which enhanced the fairytale atmosphere.

Hermione took a deep breath and Draco saw her shudder. He almost smacked his forehead, cursing himself for the thoughtlessness. He took his jacket off and offered it to her. "Here," he said, "it's cold."

"Don't worry about it," she shook her head. Her arms wrapped around her waist in an inadvertent gesture.

Draco frowned. "Please, Granger. I'm trying to be the gentleman here. Don't be stubborn."

She let out a sigh that let him know she'd given in. He helped her put the jacket on and smiled when her nimble fingers buttoned it up. She stuck her hands in the pockets and looked at him with a smile. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," he nodded.

The two resumed walking. For a while, speaking was unnecessary; there seemed to be something between the two of them, an unspoken awareness that something was about to happen. They had walked on the edge of a blade long enough - tonight was the landmark of their relationship.

"Granger," Draco finally said, halting to turn to look at her.

"Yes?" Her voice was small, as if she feared speaking up would mean to shatter the fairytale fantasy they were in.

It took all of his courage to continue now. "There is something in the inside pocket of my jacket. I'd like you to take it out. It… It's for you." He was grateful for the darkness. The situation was embarrassing enough as was; he didn't need her to see the bright blush on his face.

The disadvantage of this setup, however, is that he couldn't see her face, either. Yet, he saw her reach inside his jacket.

Her hand emerged from his pocket, clutching the velvet pouch he'd put there. "This?" she asked, sounding uncertain. Draco could bet she glowered as she did when she couldn't figure something out.

He didn't allow his impatience to slip into his voice when he replied, "Yes."

Her pale fingers fiddled with the pouch. He watched her open it and empty it into her palm.

The scarce light reflected in the surface of the ruby earrings. A soft, but audible gasp escaped the girl. No other sound followed while she turned the jewels in her hand.

"Well?" Draco prompted when the silence became unbearable. "Do you like them?"

"I… They're gorgeous, but…" She looked up at him; one of her hands travelled up to play with her hair in a nervous gesture.

"They will suit your outfit," Draco smiled.

"Yes, but… They must have cost a fortune."

The smile turned into a smirk. "They did. But that's not really a problem, you know."

"I don't think I can accept such a gift, Malfoy…"

"Why not?" he whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder and lowering his face to look her square in the eyes.

"Because…" Her voice failed her. She cleared her throat; Draco saw her tongue dart out to lick her lips. "They're too expensive and I would be too afraid to wear them and people will ask where I have them from—"

"Hermione," he chuckled. It was enough to cut her babbling short. "Sometimes, you talk too much."

Before his audacity could abandon him – or she could reply – he closed the remaining distance between the two of them and kissed her.

She gasped against his lips, but didn't resist. Instead, the hand she still clutched the earrings in wrapped around his neck while the other one raked though his hair.

His own arms came to rest around her waist and right then, he felt it was the right place for them to be.

**x-x-x**

**Phew, finally published this. I've been having some doubts about this chapter, and I'm very self-conscious about posting it. To be frank, I'm not used to writing such scenes, and I hope it's not too clumsy or long-winded.**

**In other news, I've received some very positive reviews and a lot of faves on the Dramione one-shot I posted recently, ****_Would You Rather._**** Thanks a lot for them!**

**Chapters 21-22 are almost ready, but I need to polish them a bit before uploading. **

**As always, thank you for reading! Looking forward to your thoughts!**


	21. Us Against the World

In the castle, the clock began counting till midnight.

Hermione broke the kiss, but Draco refused to let go of her, resting his forehead against hers instead. Her breathing just as troubled as his, she looked up to see him observing her through half-open eyes.

He smiled and raised one hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. His fingers rubbed across her jaw line and she leaned into the touch. His smile widened.

Draco placed a light kiss on the tip of her nose. "I've been waiting to do this."

Her heart leaped in her chest, but she didn't trusting her ability to speak. Instead, she stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the lips.

The last ring of the clock echoed in the night. For a second, silence reigned, and then the sky burst into an explosion of bright lights.

"Fireworks!" Hermione cried out.

Draco hummed against her temple, apparently more interested in leaving a trail of light kisses on her hairline.

Hermione tried to laugh, but her breath hitched in her throat. She pushed him back. "Look!" she insisted while she pointed at the sky, where flowers of red and gold spread their sparkling petals.

She attempted to step away, but he still clung to her hand. He pulled her back towards his chest, so that her back pressed against him and his arms snaked around her. "You're not going anywhere," he murmured into her hair.

"I don't want to," she replied. In His embrace tightened in response.

Several minutes passed before the fireworks died down. The two of them remained still and silent for a while; eventually, Hermione stirred. She turned around and wrapped her hands around the blonde boy's neck. Pulling him down, she said, "Happy New Year, Draco."

"Happy New Year, Hermione," he whispered against his lips, and a thrill ran through her body.

Whatever she wanted to tell him was overwhelmed by a soft moan when he kissed her again.

x-x-x

They didn't return to the castle until after the Ball had ended. They preferred the peaceful night, the quiet away from the students' eyes.

"Now what?" Hermione asked eventually.

"Hmm?" He turned to look at her and she thought she saw him raise a brow.

She licked her lips. "Well… Do we keep this a secret, or make it public?"

"This?" Amusement tinted his voice.

She pointed between the two of them. "This. Us."

"There's an 'us' now?"

Hermione stopped mid-step and turned around to look at him. Anger flushing her cheeks, she opened her mouth to snap at him.

His laughter cut her out. Before she could ask him what's so funny, he pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear, "but you're really cute when you're angry."

"Yes, thanks a lot."

Her deadpan reply caused another chuckle. "To answer your question," he said when once he'd calmed down, "I don't care about the opinions of others. If it would make you feel uncomfortable, though…"

"No, no," she replied, pushing back to look at him. "But don't you worry what people would say? 'The Pureblood and the Mud—'"

"Shh," he cut her out again. "Please, don't say that word. I hate being reminded how much of a moron I've been."

"So you admit it?" It was her turn to smirk.

"Of course I do. Now hold your tongue and kiss me, Granger."

"Do you want me to hold my tongue _or_ kiss you?"

"Oh, just—" He growled and seized her lips in a hungry kiss.

Before the last shred of rationality could abandon her, Hermione broke the kiss. "So we're together now?"

He gazed into her eyes. "Yes. Yes, we are."

x-x-x

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and the red-haired girl burst into the Common Room.

"Hello, Gi—" Hermione started replying, but that was as far as she got before her friend tackled her into a hug, knocking the air out of her lungs.

The two girls laughed. Grinning, Ginny pulled the brunette up; Hermione returned the smile before she turned towards Harry and Ron, who'd come after the girl.

"Hi, guys!" she greeted them. In the next second, she found herself in Harry's tight hug.

"We missed you, 'Mione!" The spectacled boy ruffled her hair fondly.

"Yeah, you should have come," Ron cried out, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "The second semi-final was so exciting. It lasted for more than five bloody hours, can you imagine…!" He droned on, but Hermione lost the thread as soon as he started analysing the tactics of the teams.

Ginny reached over and pressed a firm hand to her brother's mouth, successfully cutting him mid-sentence.

His indignant grumble was drowned by the girl's voice. "Anyway, Hermione! How was the Ball?"

"It was… very nice." She tried to look unruffled. Their curious gazes urged her to add, "Not as grand as the Yule Ball. There were only a handful of students and—"

"Yes, but," she could virtually see the glint in Ginny's eyes as she inquired, "Who did you dance with?"

Hermione gulped down, her stomach tightening in panic. Her eyes travelled between her three friends. Ron's arm dropped from her shoulders as even he turned to look at her in interest.

"Oh," she began while she weighed her options. As dreadful a prospect telling them the truth was, she knew they would learn it sooner or later – it was some of the hottest gossip in Hogwarts. And hearing it from someone other than her was bound to turn out ugly.

So, bracing herself for their reactions, she said, "Draco Malfoy."

Silence.

She was too busy praying that the earth would swallow her to risk a look at her friends. Yet, their reaction – or lack thereof – was a lead that dragged her slowly but steadily down to the bottom at the sea. Someone had to say something before she drowned.

_"What?"_ Ron spat out.

Hermione's eyes shot up to look at the ginger. His mouth agape and face flushed a bright purple, he looked as if he was struck by apoplexy. "You have to be kidding me!"

She shook her head, peeved by his reaction, but not at all surprised by it.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice was soft, but one look at him told her he questioned her mental faculties.

"Yes," she sighed. "I'm serious. And no, Harry, I'm not out of my mind." She made an attempt to smile. "Promise."

The shock in his green eyes gave way to anger and Hermione became aware that she had mere seconds to defuse the situation before he snapped. "Listen," she urged him, "Give me a chance to explain, all right?"

She glanced at Ginny for support. The girl had blanched, but now a sly smile bloomed on her lips. "Yes," she piped in, "Let's hear what Hermione has to say before we decide if we should send her to St Mungo's."

Squeezing her girl friend's hand in gratitude, Hermione motioned the rest to go and sit in one of the more secluded corners of the Common Room. Then she started her story. She told them about the nightmares, her discovery that Draco was not a Death Eater, and underlined that it was all a part of Dumbledore's plans. The Slytherin's plans she only touched on, pointing out he didn't intend to carry them out. She also omitted their more intimate moments – she didn't deem it smart to divulge such information, especially not now when it seemed that the vein on Ron's temple would burst.

It didn't take her long to tell them everything, but when she was done, her throat was hoarse, as if she'd been talking for hours.

Her knees trembling, she awaited their verdict.

"So… He's not a Death Eater?" The rage in Harry's eyes had died down; now he seemed curious.

"No."

"But you said he was scheming something," he pointed out.

"Yes, but he doesn't want to do it any more."

"How do you know he isn't lying through his teeth?" Ron asked.

She knew someone would ask this question sooner or later. She also knew her answer would probably be what tipped the balance in one direction or the other. So, she mustered all her confidence and said, "I trust him."

It took them a second to process her words.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Harry's eyes bored into her. "I mean… He could have hexed you, or used the Imperius Curse on you, or…"

Now a bit amused, Hermione shook her head again. "I don't have any inexplicable gaps in my memory, so I'm fairly sure he hasn't done anything of the sort. I'm acting by my own volition." She hesitated. "All I'm asking you is to respect my decision."

"So," Ginny said loudly, making everyone look at her. "What it all boils down to is that you're dating Draco Malfoy."

Hermione hid a smile. The redhead was not one to beat about the bush. "Yes."

"And you're happy?"

"Yes, I am," she nodded again.

"Then of course I'll support you!" Ginny announced and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

Tears of relief welled up in Hermione's eyes. She squeezed them shut, willing herself to remain calm.

A moment later, when she felt the two boys joining the group hug, her heart leaped in joy. "Thank you, guys," she whispered.

x-x-x

The next day marked the end of the Christmas break. Classes resumed and life seemed to have returned to the status quo.

Except, not quite.

Somehow, the relationship between a Gryffindor – none other than Hermione Granger, and the Slytherin Prince Draco Malfoy had become an open secret; there seemed to be no one in the school who hadn't heard the rumour.

Hermione found herself the object of countless glances – some curious, some downright hateful – and she could only pretend not to hear the whispers behind her back. In the hallways, everyone pointed at her; in the classrooms, people turned around in their chairs to steal a look at the girl who'd captured Malfoy's heart. Even the teachers looked at her more intensely than usual.

All this unwanted attention made Hermione's blood boil. Once again, she was reminded that people would just not mind their own business. This sort of curiosity, bordering on insolence, had always irked her. Now, when it was her in the limelight, the temptation to jinx the annoying busybodies became almost unbearable.

The loud chime of the bell filled the classroom. The Arithmancy teacher let them know they're free to go, opening the floodgates for the chatter of the students.

Hermione gave the Gryffindor crowd a head start before she left the classroom.

She hadn't had a chance to talk to Draco about this interest in their personal lives – in fact, she hadn't talked to him after her conversation with Harry, Ron and Ginny - but she supposed it didn't annoy him half as much as it did her. She knew how much the Slytherin relished attention.

Deciding not to think about how much the stares bothered her, she picked up her pace. She thought she would have time to dwell on it once she'd returned to the Common Room.

However, the first thing she saw when she entered her bedroom was a scroll of parchment lying on her bed. Her brows shot up in confusion, but she immediately took and unfolded it.

_Hermione,_

_I reached a decision. Meet me at the Room of R at 11 o'clock._

_-Draco_

She folded the note again and placed it on her bedside table, a smile grazing her lips. Short as it was, it was enough to please her. He probably needed her support before his conversation with Dumbledore – she had little doubt that was the decision he'd reached.

Why so late, though?

She guessed he didn't want anyone to notice his leaving the Slytherin Rooms, which made sense. After all, he was about to join forces with his housemates' biggest foes against the Dark Lord. Still, he was already openly dating her, so what difference would it make? The rest of the Slytherins had likely already rallied against him.

The girl shook her head, dismissing her questions. There was no use over-thinking it, as she could ask Draco himself soon.

A glance at her wristwatch let her know she had a couple of hours to spare before their _rendezvous._

While she was excited she would talk to the boy so soon, she couldn't shake off the nagging sense of alarm at the back of her mind.

**x-x-x**

**Every time I publish a new chapter, I feel both excited and anxious. It's a great feeling! I'd love to hear what you think, you know reviews make my day. **

**As for the next chapter, I think it will be the most interesting in this story so far - at least, it's a blast to write. So, stay tuned!**


	22. Save Me

Of all the times Hermione had snuck around Hogwarts in the night, this was one of the most straining. All of the Christmas and New Year's decorations were gone; the castle felt dark and ominous. Even the torches along the walls seemed to shine more weakly than usual. She darted from one circle of light to the other, aware of the sound of her footfalls resonating through the hallway.

She stuck her hands deep into the pockets of her robe in the hope it would ease her shivering.

The anxiousness she'd felt earlier had only increased. Yet, when she reached the hallway where the Room of Requirement was, she reminded herself once again there was no need to worry.

As a precaution measure, though, she gripped her wand. As long as it was in her hand, she was safe.

The door of the secret room opened with a quiet sigh and Hermione stepped in.

Darkness reigned inside. She instinctively tensed, squinting to make anything out. "Draco?" she called out.

However, the laughter that greeted her was not her boyfriend's. It was high-pitched and maniacal, and it made her skin crawl.

She stepped back, groping for the doorknob, but a click told her the door had been locked.

"Who's there?" she asked. Her wand was out of her pocket, but she had no time to cast any spell. Before she could as much as open her mouth, a burst of light blinded her. The wand flew out of her hand.

When it rattled on the floor, the maniacal laughter sounded again.

x-x-x

By the time Draco managed to get away from Pansy, it was long past his usual dinner time. He stomped down the hallway, his blood still boiling because of their conversation.

Although at the beginning of the school year he'd made it clear that the task Voldemort had given him was a taboo subject, the girl had tried to interrogate him about it. She wanted him to tell her when he would get through with it; she made a point of emphasising that he couldn't possibly give it up.

When he refused to answer any of her questions, she had started asking him about his relationship with Hermione,

Eventually, he'd snapped. "What are you up to, Parkinson?" he had shouted.

"I'm defending your own interests, Draco," she'd smiled. A wry smile without an ounce of humour. "Even of you don't realise it."

The boy finally reached the Great Hall.

As soon as he stepped in, his eyes locked on the Gryffindor table. A single look confirmed his suspicions: Hermione was not there. He frowned.

He was hoping he'd talk to her today – if only because he was worried that the rumours that circulated through the school bothered her. But now there was neither hide nor hair from her. What if she was avoiding him?

Just then, he spotted a familiar redhead walking in the direction of the entrance – Ginny Weasley.

"Weaslette," he called out to her.

Immediately, the prettiest Weasley sibling stopped and looked at him. Several feelings crossed her face in a rapid succession – surprise, confusion, annoyance, then concern. She steered towards him. "Malfoy."

It dawned on him that he had no idea what the girl thought about him or his relationship with her friend. Normally, that wouldn't bother him, but now that he took the feelings of another in consideration, he couldn't help but be self-conscious. "Have you seen Hermione?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Confusion was back on her face. "Yes, she left some time ago. She seemed to be in a hurry. In fact, I thought she was going to meet you."

"Meet me?" He shook his head. "No, I haven't seen her today." He frowned. "Did she say anything?"

"No. She looked a bit uneasy, though. Why, what's going on?"

"I don't know," he replied, running a hand through his hair. More to himself than to her, he added, "I have a bad feeling about this." A suspicion formed in his mind. His pale eyes bore into Ginny's with sudden intensity. "Weaslette, I need you to do something for me."

x-x-x

Hermione stepped to the side, in the direction her wand had disappeared in. She had to retrieve it as quickly as possible if she wanted to be able to defend herself. She tried to be as fast and noiseless as possible: an instinct told her that her attacker would expect her to be near the doorframe, so she had to move away. Darkness and silence was the only disguise she needed.

Right leg, left leg. She felt her way with her toes, barely daring to breathe. Going by the sound from before, the wand should be no more than a couple of feet away. If she could just—

Sharp pain shot through her left leg when the edge of a hard object sunk into her shin. She gritted her teeth to prevent a growl, and the salty taste of blood filled her mouth – she'd bitten her lip.

She forgot about the pain when she heard a crashing noise right next to herself. Whatever she'd kicked into had toppled; her cover was blown.

The blood-curdling sneer of the attacker sounded closer now. "It appears little Hermione Granger isn't as clever as she thinks!"

Hermione recoiled. She had heard this voice – a woman's voice, shrill but sing-song.

"You should have known better than to come here alone. Are you not scared of the monsters that hide in the dark?" She cackled.

"You don't scare me," Hermione said, but even she couldn't believe her words.

"Then you're even more stupid!"

Suddenly, light filled the room. All of the candles flickered alight in the same moment; the abrupt illumination made her retinas burn.

Hermione gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. Dozens of white-hot dots danced under her eyelids, but she blinked them away. She needed to focus, needed to fight back.

The room came into focus and Hermione immediately realised what had happened. The door of the Vanishing Cabinet hung wide open, and in front of it, walking towards her with wide brisk strides, was a woman.

She was skinny and emaciated, a spider with dangling limbs. The mess of her raven-black hair framed a face so haggard it looked like a skull. Tall cheekbones and big eyes showed she had used to be pretty, but now she only evoked disgust and terror. The dark depths of her eyes blazed with insanity and Hermione knew she would not hesitate to kill her.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," the girl choked.

"That's right," Bellatrix grinned, making a mock-curtsy. "We meet again, Mudblood. I'm afraid this will be the last time, though."

Hermione stepped back. While she scanned the floor for her wand, she tried to keep the other woman talking. "What are you doing here?"

"And you're supposed to be the brightest witch of your generation! Ha! You're just as stupid as the rest of them!"

Another step back and she thought she could see the tip of her wand behind her right foot. "What do you mean?"

Bellatrix cackled again. Drops of spit flew out of her mouth and her eyes bulged as she tried to breathe. She needed a few seconds to calm down before she spoke. "How amusing to be the one to tell you you've been betrayed!"

"Betrayed?" Hermione's own eyes widened; she felt like Bellatrix had punched her in the stomach. The suspicion that had been preying on her came to the forefront of her mind. Blood rushed in her ears, making her all but deaf to the woman's next words.

"Look at you, you already know what I'm going to say. What a pity!" Her cruel smirk contradicted her words. "It was Draco who set this up!"

"No," Hermione shook her head, "No, I don't believe you."

Gravity seemed to have shifted. She stumbled back and only the cold wall behind her prevented her from collapsing. "You're lying."

Another gale of laughter. "We both know I'm not. You have thought about this too, haven't you? About why a rich, aristocratic Pureblood would treat you with something other than the disdain scum like you deserves?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Draco told me everything. About his plans, about Voldemort—"

"Silence!" Bellatrix screeched. "Don't you dare pronounce that name, you filthy bitch!" The tip of her wand pointed at the girl's chest. _"Crucio!"_

Pain exploded in her solar plexus. It shot through her body, blazes that seemed to incinerate every cell of her, blazes that could only be described as _agony._ The pressure inside her head mounted; black blots and white stars alternated before her eyes.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain stopped.

Hermione stood on her hands and knees, panting. Drips of cold sweat ran down the sides of her face. She shuddered violently, every muscle inside her body tense as she expected the next onslaught of agony.

Once again, her mouth was full of blood because of her effort not to scream. Her lips and the insides of her cheeks throbbed where her teeth had lacerated them. She bit back a groan, looking around and then up through her hair to the other witch.

Her pained expression gave way to a smirk. "Wrong move, Bellatrix," she managed to say, even though she felt as if her mouth was full of sandpaper.

Surprise flashed on the face of the older woman. In the next moment, it was gone, but her expression remained wary when she asked, "What do you mean?"

"You shouldn't have let me reach my wand."

x-x-x

Draco waited for Ginny in a hallway that was unfamiliar to him. The Weasley girl had made him stop there, demanding that he should not find out where the entrance of the Gryffindor Common Room was. He had found it best not to argue, but he was already growing impatient.

How much time had passed since she had left him there? It could be five minutes or an hour – the growing uneasiness made it impossible for him to tell. Briefly, he pondered on whether she'd lied to him, but he dismissed the idea – she looked so troubled as he felt.

Just when he began to wonder if he shouldn't follow her, he heard footsteps. Ginny Weasley appeared at the end of the hallway and all but ran to him. "Malfoy," she greeted him breathlessly. Her face betrayed an even bigger apprehension than before, but the tight line of her lips made her look more guarded, even mistrusting.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I found this on her bedside table." She handed him a piece of folded parchment.

Even before he opened it, it filled him with dread. After he read it, he felt downright sick. "This—" He couldn't force anything around the lump in his throat. He gulped down and tried again, "This is not my handwriting."

Doubt was evident on Weasley's face, but he had no time to argue with her; as far as he was concerned, they could as well be late already.

Not allowing the looming despair to overwhelm him, he gripped the girl by the shoulders. "You must go to Dumbledore. Tell him Hermione Granger is in danger and he must go to the Room of Requirement immediately. You get it?"

"And you?"

"I'm heading straight there." He let her go, gently pushing her in the direction she needed to go in, and turned around.

"This could be a trap."

He stopped in his tracks. "Yes, it could."

"I don't have any reason to trust you. You've always been a slimy Slytherin snake, and your parents are known to be Death Eaters."

"Yes." He spun on his heal and returned to the girl's side. He saw her flinch, but she didn't step back. Instead, she raised her eyes to meet his. He stared right back at her, unmoving, unblinking, as he let every pretence fade from his face. Without saying a word, he let her see the depth of all feelings that raged inside him. "Do I look like a liar now?" he finally whispered.

The girl looked away. She pressed her lips together and a wrinkle appeared on her forehead as she assessed the situation. When she sighed, Draco knew she would do what he had asked her. After all, she was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors were always ready to help their friends, come hell or high water.

"Fine," she voiced her decision.

Draco nodded curtly. "Thinking about it, you should get your brother and Saint Potter. We'll need all the manpower we can find."

She opened her mouth, no doubt to ask what for, but his frown convinced her not to. "Okay. Later, then." Before she ran off, she said, "If anything happens to her, I'll personally kill you. And good luck."

With that, she darted down the hallway. Draco didn't move for another few moments, but then he turned in the opposite direction and broke into a run.

He had no more time to lose.

x-x-x

Hermione's sudden attack had caught Bellatrix unawares, but before long, the girl felt her strength abandon her.

Her legs still trembled, both unstable and as heavy as blocks of concrete. Her heart raced in her chest and drowned out the spells and curses she shouted. Every time she dodged or ducked, her head spun; her movements were slow and clumsy.

The sense of control she usually experienced when she used her wand was now gone. Sheer instinct had taken the place of her usual rational thoughts – she fought to save her skin, with a sort of primal despair that was caused first by the Cruciatus curse and second by the adrenaline in her system.

It was a fight to the death, and Hermione was losing.

Not only was the older witch more experienced, but her dueling style was chaotic and unpredictable. Unlike Hermione, she did not feel the aftereffects of the torturous curse; she was fresh and prepared.

Another flash of green light erupted from Bellatrix's wand. Hermione jumped to the left and a big porcelain vase burst into a million pieces when the curse hit it. A series of pangs in her side let Hermione know she was hit by the shreds of china.

Before she could counterattack, Bellatrix shrieked another magical word. Hermione cowered behind a cabinet; she heard a whiz when the spell flew above her head.

"Given up yet, Mudblood girl?" the witch cooed. "You don't stand a chance. Just surrender and I'll be merciful and just kill you."

"As tempting as it is, I'll have to refuse."

Bellatrix burst out laughing. Using the sound to aim, Hermione whispered a spell.

The other woman parried, but a crash and a gasp told Hermione she'd knocked into something.

She jumped out of her hiding place and resumed fighting with renewed vigour.

x-x-x

She had no means of telling how much time had passed.

She found herself cornered in the same alcove she'd hidden in the night she'd followed Draco into the Room of Requirement. The wand slid from her trembling, sweaty hand and fell, but this time Hermione made no effort to retrieve it.

It cost her all of her remaining strength to hold her head high and watch as Bellatrix made her way towards her. The witch took her time, taking step after slow step, with her face twisted into an expression that belonged to a nightmare.

But then again, Hermione thought, that already was a nightmare.

"I told you, girly, you stand no chance against me." The smirk widened. "Now kneel in front of your superior."

Hermione shook her head in defiance.

"I said _kneel!" _She raised her wand again, and Hermione braced herself for the curse she knew would follow. "Cru—"

That was as far as she got, however, before a familiar drawl filled the room.

"Shut up, _aunty." _

**x-x-x**

**How did you like this chapter, guys? For one, I'm awfully hyped up for this part, I have so many plans... I hope you look forward to them.**

**See you in the next chapter! (Also, thank you for the reviews, I truly appreciate them!)**


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